


Pansy’s Volcano by BlueMidget

by MoonlightMade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 7th year hogwarts, Draco’s promiscuous until Granger, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Explicit sex scenes, F/M, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Smut, Hormones everywhere!, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, No actual infidelities because Pansy is delusional, Oral Sex, Pansy’s jealous, Shared Dorms, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Smut, Tantalising carriage rides, Teenage Drama, head boy draco, love to hate, no OTP compliant, volcano’s erupting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 195,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightMade/pseuds/MoonlightMade
Summary: 7th year story, AU from OtP, in which Pansy is attempting to resurrect her relationship with Draco and she’s scrutinising his every move, Hermione and Draco are confused, and Ron is mature. And there’s a mysterious volcano intrinsically tied to Draco’s fidelity; unfortunately for Pansy, Hermione and Draco now share a dorm.Archiving Only: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544171043
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

It happened to Draco whilst Pansy Parkinson was kissing him in a small alcove off the corridor beside Professor Snape's potions lab. Pansy had caught his arm as he passed by after the last double potions of the day, and pulled him into the alcove, muttering a small concealing spell as she did so.

Draco had been avoiding Pansy since the beginning of term, three weeks ago now; he had begun to feel that she was taking whatever minor liberties he had briefly allowed her for granted. There were definite signs of possessiveness beginning to show, which he was not going to tolerate and so he had withdrawn. It had, however, been quite a while since he had been with anyone and Pansy did have a very talented tongue, so this once he had followed her into the alcove and allowed her to climb up his body and start removing his clothes.

She was licking her way from his ear to his mouth when he heard the sounds of other students making their way along the corridor. Draco was unconcerned about discovery; most of the school knew he had had Pansy by the end of 5th year, and probably half the girls in the school would have happily taken her place. Draco wasn't stupid; he knew a lot of his appeal to the witches came from a combination of the Malfoy money and name, and the power, which went with it, but lately Nature had also chosen to be exceptionally kind to him physically.

Not that it had happened immediately; somewhere around Christmas of 6th year he had finally grown upwards and filled out. Draco would never admit it, but he had spent a lot of time until that point worrying whether he was destined to be short. It hadn't helped that his two worst rivals, Pothead and the Weasel had returned after the previous summer break both a head taller than him, and this had caused even more bitterness and rivalry on his behalf. Luckily he had finally grown into his reputation, and although both Gryffindors were still taller than him, he rather thought it helped his Quidditch game that he was less bulky; seekers needed to be sleek and fast and he was certainly that.

The voices neared Draco and Pansy and became clearer, and suddenly Draco found himself paying more attention to what they were saying than to what Pansy was doing.

'....grab a handful of that!' The dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood was unmistakable.

'I know, just watching him on his broomstick...What a sin to keep it covered by his school robes all day! He should be strutting around in tight jeans and a white T shirt!' Another girl, not Slytherin, whose voice he didn't recognise. 'I swear that's the only reason I go to Quidditch matches, to perv after his bum. I'm living for the day he strips off his shirt and swaps with the other team, the way they do in the football league!' Obviously she was a Muggle; Draco didn't understand half of what she was saying although he got the drift well enough.

'Honestly, what are you - twelve?' Granger - he would know that voice anywhere. As usual, spoiling other people's fun.

'But, Hermione, even you have to admit he has a fine piece of ass!' Ginny She Weasel.

'No, I prefer my guy less...snakey,' Granger snorted at her friend, and Draco, whilst still rubbing his palms over Pansy's own behind, began to suspect that he was actually the subject of this illicit gossip. He smirked to himself; Granger was so predictable and uptight, what a shame he hadn't heard her admitting to a secret lust for him. He would never let her forget it!! However, it really was a sad reflection on his state of ennui that he gained more pleasure from eavesdropping on a gaggle of gossiping Gryffindors than from the service Pansy was performing for him.

'It's no good dreaming, that Pug-faced Parkinson's got him anyway,' Luna continued repressively, and Draco had to smother a grin at the apt description. Good thing the pug faced one was to busy with his shirt buttons to eavesdrop. ' I really don't want to keep him, he'd be much too high maintenance, but I would love to take him out for a test drive!'

'I heard she has infidelity alarm hexes cast all around him, so she will know if he touches anyone but her,' She did? Draco was impressed. He wouldn't have thought Pansy capable.

"Ooh, I wonder what sort of hex you could use for that?' Ginny asked excitedly.' Do you think his dick might drop off? Oh, or maybe turn green and shrivel up? Hermione?' He could picture them all turning to Granger, the resident brain, as if she had a list of emasculating hexes at her fingertips. Whoa, that was enough; it was beginning to make Draco uncomfortable. Merlin, it would make any red-blooded wizard twitchy! He would have to address that issue as soon as he got out of this alcove!

'Ginny, Luna, you're terrible!' More giggling. 'But you're right...He'd be way too high maintenance to keep for any length of time,' the unknown muggle again.

'You know,' Granger, sounding thoughtful, 'Pansy may have had him, but I very much doubt anyone's actually got him,' she continued and the insight in her carefully chosen words made Draco's eyes narrow and he was just about to stop Pansy's wandering hands and pay more attention when Granger continued, and her voice changed totally from the tight clipped accent she usually used to tell him to shut up or get out of her way, to a low, husky, sultry tone dripping with sexual innuendo.

'Can't you just see them together; Malfoy's just laying there on his bed; it would be huge - green and silver, all Prince of Slytherin, plotting ways to get points deducted from Gryffindor, while Pansy's crawling all over him like a rash begging him Oh, Draco, I need you, kiss me Draco. Touch me, Yesss -right there! Oh, oh, I need you inside me Now Draco!'

Draco made a strangled sound and all the blood in his body suddenly rushed south and the erection he had been finding so elusive since Pansy started her fondling sprang to life with a force that astonished him. Pansy, who had been playing with his fly, not sure if she should progress, made a sound of pleasure and began easing his zip down.

Draco was too deep in shock that the sound of Granger's - Granger? - sultry bedroom voice should have such an effect on his anatomy to even attempt to stop her. Even though he knew she was mocking both he and Pansy, he was picturing the Head Girl laying there on that green and silver bed of her imagination, begging him with those very words. His lust fogged brain barely heard the giggling girls out in the main corridor telling Hermione that she was wicked and bad, and then their footsteps began to recede down the hallway, conversation turning to the upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw and totally unaware that their words had just ruined his life.

He was jerked forcefully back to the reality of his alcove by the sudden heat of Pansy's wet mouth closing around his freed erection, and for a tantalizing moment the image of chestnut brown curls framing a face with sultry brown eyes gazing up at him through long dark lashes, whilst a pouty red mouth caressed him swam in front of his closed eyelids, and a whimper- Merlin, what was that? Malfoy's never whimpered - escaped his clenched teeth.

Then he opened his eyes and his delicious fantasy evaporated devastatingly back into reality. And the reality was that Pansy Parkinson was on her knees in front of him, he was halfway down her throat, and her hair was the wrong colour and so were her eyes, and Oh, Fuck! What was wrong with him? He jerked back with a yelp, and thrust his palm against her forehead pushing her away from him and trying to fumble his erection back into his uniform trousers with the other hand.

Unfortunately, residual images of Granger deep throating him danced across the inside of his head refusing him the relief of softening his arousal, and even as he zipped up, he realized he would have to deal with it himself very, very soon.

As soon as he was half way respectable he draped his robes around himself like a shield, and snapping some excuse about Quidditch practice that didn't sound convincing even to his own ears, he fled from the alcove leaving a totally baffled and miserable Pansy kneeling there in the position she had adopted for his pleasure.

Unfortunately, his dramatic exit was hampered by the fact that his arousal was so painful he could hardly walk, let alone sweep along the corridors in his usual commanding fashion, and he was extremely grateful that he encountered no one on his way back to the suite of rooms allocated to the Head Boy.

As soon as he reached his room he cast half a dozen locking spells on the door and threw himself onto his bed, an exotic representation of his house colours, just as Hermione had speculated, and wide enough to sleep half a dozen had he been inclined for an orgy.

His brain, which he had ferociously not allowed to think about what just happened to him whilst he had been making his way here, broke free of all restraints, and a kaleidoscope of images suddenly revolved around in his imagination, making him dizzy.

The one thing which became crystal clear t0 him was that Granger's thoughtlessly teasing words spoken in jest and solely to mock him, had created in him the greatest arousal and therefore the greatest conflict he had ever known. She had planted truly terrifying images in his mind. By Merlin's whiskers - how could he admit, even to himself, that he wanted Granger. Granger, the instrument of most of the humiliation which had occurred in his whole school life. The Golden Girl of the Golden Three, the only person in school consistently to receive better marks than he. The only girl who had never looked at him twice except to chastise him or hex him. The Bane of his Existence.

Was all it really took hearing her pretend to plead for him in a voice which sounded like pure sex, to make him lust after her, or was it even worse? Had it actually always been there? Buried so deep down in his psyche that he had been unable to recognise it until the shock of hearing her lips whispering all those things that he knew she would never say but he apparently wanted to hear anyway, had released something in his head that he was now unable to force back to where it had been hiding all these years?

It was true that whilst he spent a lot of time railing against the Golden Trio collectively, he was able to bring her image into much sharper focus than that of either Potter or Weasley. He knew every inch of her face; he knew exactly how high she came against his shoulder and how far down her back her hair fell. He knew the exact colour of her eyes even to the golden flecks dancing in the brown.

No, no, no, he moaned, and suddenly realized that totally without his conscious direction he had released himself from the confines of his uniform trousers, and was stroking his erection. What will it matter....an evil insidious part of his brain asked, if you indulge just this once. Imagine what you could be doing to her, how she would feel, how she would taste. Just this once. No one need ever know, and then it will be over.

I'll know, and it will always be there, he argued with himself. You can keep a secret, the Other tempted, What are you going to do, run around the Slytherin dungeons telling everyone you got off fantasizing about that Mudblood Granger? Never happen. Just let it all out. Just this once...

He was going insane now on top of everything else. Arguing with himself like a nutcase from St Mungos....Draco closed his eyes. He was getting a headache to go with the spectacular aches in other parts of his body. But there she was again, floating behind his eyelids just waiting for him to weaken. She crept up his bed and knelt at his hips her hair brushing across his stomach, peeking up at him though her lashes in the way that he only just now realized drove him wild. He could feel her hot breath on the insanely sensitive flesh of his cock, and then the evil witch allowed the tip of her pretty pink tongue to lap around her lush mouth, making her lips moist and shiny, and then they closed over him where Pansy had so recently been, but it was not the same sensation. Oh, not at all. His hand clenched tighter as he imagined the touch of her and it was all over for him.

With a roar that he barely managed to strangle in his throat by biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, Draco erupted into an orgasm so intense that his whole body coiled upwards from the bed, and black spots formed in front of his eyes. In the fierce grip of his hand his cock released copious spurts of thick white cum over his stomach and the bed linens beneath him. This orgasm was so long and forceful that he was shaking right the way down to his toes by the time it was over and he was panting just to get enough oxygen into his lungs to draw the next breath.

It took him long minutes to gather his scattered thoughts back, and he was still panting, his heart racing when he finally managed to raise himself onto his elbows and take in the mess he had made of the bed and himself. Fuck, but he had never come like that before in his life. The evil treacherous voice in his head teased him suggesting slyly that if it felt this good just with his own hand and a bit of imagination, how much better could it be if he was really inside of her? He moaned, as that image brought with it a sudden and unexpected encore, which he would have honestly believed his body incapable of after his first climax.

What in the name of Merlin's Beard was happening to him?


	2. Chapter 2

'Hermione!' Ginny gasped, impressed, as Hermione created her impersonation of Pansy, 'You are bad!' and Hermione felt a flicker of something which might have been guilt. That had been catty and quite unlike her, but just recently Pansy Parkinson had been irritating her beyond all belief. Since the beginning of this term, actually.

Not that she gave a fig about Malfoy's feelings, but she was nonetheless fairly sure he had no idea of how Pansy portrayed their relationship (whatever it actually was) whilst he was not around.

Admittedly, Hermione was probably the last person in whom Pansy would ever confide, but her voice was certainly loud enough as she held court to her Slytherin acolytes for any one sitting at a neighboring table to hear every word she uttered. Hermione found herself pitying both parties; while she had never been attracted to him, she still had eyes and she couldn't fathom what someone with Malfoy's - attributes -would see in a girl with Pansy's abrasive voice and bitchy personality, and had come to the conclusion his father must have ordered the relationship.

It wasn't so much what Pansy said but the tone of her voice when she wasn't saying it, which had similarly led Hermione to make certain assumptions about the nature of Pansy & Malfoy's courtship, and while she was fairly confident she wasn't wrong in her deductions, somehow it felt mean and petty to amuse herself and her friends at Pansy's expense. It was exactly the sort of behaviour she would expect from Pansy! She had never done such a thing before, and she had no idea where today's performance had come from.

Hermione was fairly sure that above and beyond the Malfoy name, galleons and social influence, Pansy did genuinely have feelings of some sort for Draco, which he obviously didn't return, given the number of witches his name had been linked to recently, but seemed willing to exploit.

Of course, being both a Slytherin and consequently very shallow, it was difficult to accurately gauge the true depth of the girl's feelings.

Hermione's companions moved quickly on to a discussion of the weekend's Quidditch potential (more chances to ogle Malfoy's spectacular rear), but she was stuck in the contemplation of her own words. She was disturbed by the fluidity of her act. Not only by her opinion of whether Pansy had rights to Malfoy, but also the ease with which she had envisaged the role of sex kitten begging for his touch, as if she herself had actual experience to draw upon.

Which brought her to contemplation of the other protagonist; Draco Malfoy had shot up and filled out over the past 2 years - having been almost as short as Hermione up until the end of 5th year - and pretty much the whole female population of the school had noticed, including truth be told, most of the girls in Gryffindor. Many evenings Hermione had sighed to herself as she studied in the common room and had to listen to them swooning over his hair and his eyes, and of course, that arse. If he hadn't stopped growing a couple of inches shy of six foot, Hermione thought he might have actually rivaled Harry himself as the Gryffindor pin-up boy.

In reality, most students did not entertain as much inter house rivalry as Ron, Harry & Hermione; they had not been as personally touched by history, fame and expectation as had The Boy Who Lived and by association those who called themselves his best friends, and it didn't seem as much an anathema to them to date outside their own House. Although pairings with Slytherin were still very much in a minority, they did happen.

Malfoy was Head Boy, in counterpart to Hermione's Head Girl (a circumstance which Ron and Harry both still found incomprehensible, despite Hermione pointing out fairly but through clenched teeth, that he was the only other student in school with grades anywhere near matching hers) He was also the captain of his Quidditch team; he had the looks, the status and the girls and he knew it. The whole student body knew it.

But most alarmingly to Hermione, apparently she had also noticed it! When had she noticed it? Was today truly the first time? Were her own carelessly joking words just that, or were they indicative of something deeper and far more disturbing? Why had they caused this turmoil within her? She had spent more time thinking about Malfoy in the past twenty minutes than in the whole of the previous six years, and it wouldn't do!

Maybe today was just the day she chose to be honest with herself, because if she had never allowed thoughts of Malfoy in before, then she should not be able to just close her eyes and picture him as clearly as if he was standing right there in front of her. Strangely enough, her imaginary Draco was dressed in his Quidditch uniform; tight flying pants and leather, perfect hair ruffled by the wind. Slytherin had just won, of course, and his silvery eyes were alight with triumph. He was tossing the snitch in his gloved left hand. The image was probably constructed from Amber's comments about his bum earlier, she told herself.

He had beautiful eyes, with thick dark lashes, and....Whoa! Where did that come from? And since when do you know how long Draco Malfoy's eyelashes are, Hermione? She berated herself, as her imaginary Draco winked at her then turned and walked out of her illusion, giving her ample opportunity to appreciate that remarkable taut rear.

As abruptly as it had manifested itself her temporary insanity evaporated. "Fuck!' she swore, at the clearing of her head. "Fuck, fuck!"

Her companions turned to her in surprise, for she was not prone to swearing, and Ginny stretched out a hand to her arm in concern. Hermione allowed it to rest there briefly while she pulled herself together, then mumbled her way around some excuse about a Potions project she had to start on and disappeared down the corridor as fast as she could without actually breaking into an undignified run.

She needed to be alone to digest this alarming development. She wasn't really visualizing herself in Pansy's position in her little Thespian enactment, was she?

Hermione took refuge in he favorite seat in the rear of the library. She spread several text books across the table to create the illusion of serious study, but in reality her head was in turmoil.

It seemed incredible to her that not an hour ago she had been laughing with her friends, enjoying her final year and with no threat from the Dark Lord on the horizon for the first time since she started at Hogwarts, this should have been the best year ever. And yet as the result of one careless throwaway comment made by she herself, here she was sitting in the library brooding over a person she had thought she barely spared the time of day this morning.

Hermione prided herself on her intelligence; she felt it was her best quality. She would certainly never be renowned for her looks or flying abilities, but she could usually see an issue clearly and normally analyse a quick solution to most problems, but somehow she seemed unable to decide from which angle to approach a critique of the problem she had created for herself today. Maybe she was overreacting and there was nothing to analyse anyway. Yes that was it. The simple solution, and one that was woefully underused. Denial looked pretty good to Hermione right about now.

She was massaging her temples with her eyes closed when somebody dropped into the seat opposite her, and for an unpleasant second until she opened her eyes, she truly feared that her fevered imaginings had actually conjured up his physical presence.

But when she saw Ron's concerned face in front of her, common sense asserted herself and she could almost laugh at how unlikely it would be that Draco Malfoy would search her out today just because she had experienced an inexplicable brain seizure, when he had spent the past six years avoiding the very air space she occupied, fearing he might get Muggle cooties!!

Ron was asking why she had missed dinner, and she finally began to relax and feel like she was getting her equilibrium back.

'Is it that time already?' she asked, trying to make light of it. 'I must have lost track of the time....History of Magic essay, you know,' she continued gesturing at her books. It was true that she had no idea of the time and it wasn't an actual lie if she only implied that the reason for her tardiness was her studies and not her contemplation of a certain blond Slytherin Quidditch captain, now was it?

Ron's hand slipped across the table and settled over the back of her own, lingering there momentarily before turning her hand over and linking his fingers with hers. She gripped his hand tightly and he looked a little surprised, but pleased.

They had been hovering on the verge of something more than friendship since the end of last term, but the summer holidays and the constant scrutiny at the Burrow when Hermione came to spend the last two weeks there before term started, had made it difficult to progress to any greater level of intimacy.

Both Ron and Hermione had expected that when they returned to school they might move on to the next level in a relationship, but Hermione's appointment as Head Girl had left her with much less free time than ever before, and things were still somewhat stalled although she knew Ron was eager to become closer, and up until this afternoon she had been mildly irritated that she didn't have as much time to devote to the exploration of what they could become to each other as well. Now she was just confused, and although she knew it was unfair to encourage Ron because of that, she couldn't resist the comforting warmth his easy familiarity gave her.

'I missed you,' he said now. "Ginny thought you rushed off in a panic earlier.'

'I'm okay now,' Hermione insisted, 'But I am a bit hungry, wish I had paid more attention to the time. Thanks for coming to find me; what would I do without you? Do you think I could still get something from the kitchens?'

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but at the last moment he turned to reply to her, and she ended up kissing him on the mouth instead.

She gasped and shifted backwards in surprise, but Ron tugged immediately on her hand and followed her until he caught her mouth again with his own, and there was no mistaking it for an accident this time. Ron kissed her quite thoroughly and expertly, running the tip of his tongue over the edge of her lips until she opened up and let him in to explore the line of her teeth and play sensuously with her own tongue.

Hermione's stomach was fluttering by the time he drew back and she was wide eyed with surprise, not that it had happened but that it should have done so now of all times, when she was so confused. There was also no denying Ron was quite good at this and she had to wonder when and with whom he had gotten so experienced.

He was breathing hard when he drew back and his eyes were dark and hot as he let them roam possessively over her flushed face and swollen lips. ''Mione,' he breathed, 'Wow!'

Wow, indeed, thought Hermione, although she wasn't sure they were both referring to the same thing.


	3. Chapter 3

After Draco collected himself and performed a cleaning spell on the bed, he took a shower in hopes of removing the itchy feeling which had settled on him shortly after his pulse rate had returned to normal and his mind was not so fogged with Granger lust.

It didn't work, but he thought a Malfoy should be in better control of his mind and his body, so he ordered himself to forget that the past two hours had ever happened, and marched down to the Great Hall for dinner as if there was nothing amiss in his world.

He didn't, he really absolutely and definitely did not look at the Gryffindor table as he passed and notice that Granger was not there.

Pansy was sitting with two other Slytherin girls, a 6th and 7th year, and she scowled at him under her fringe as he passed but obviously knew better than to challenge him about anything.

Draco strode to his normal position at the head of the table. As Head Boy and also team captain he was expected to show a presence at meal times and be available afterwards to students should they need guidance or advice in any matter.

This was also expected of the Head Girl, so why wasn't she here fulfilling her duties like the perfect Gryffindor lioness that she was, he brooded with a scowl. It wasn't like little Miss Perfect to blow off a single one of her obligations. She had taken to her prefect duties in 5th year like a duck to water, and ever since had only seemed to add more burdens to her already overflowing schedule. And she never missed the dinner scheduling unless one of the Professors announced a reason beforehand, and gave out an alternative time for the students to make appointments with her.

Draco just knew that she would have a whole chapter devoted to her scholastic and extra- curricular achievements in future editions of Hogwarts; A History. It made him sick.

He took his seat; the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables had no corresponding chairs in this position as the Head students were not selected from their houses this year, and glowered at the empty space at the top of the Gryffindor table. Despite his checkered reputation, Draco did take his responsibilities as Head Buy quite seriously. It had been a very long time since anyone from Slytherin has been selected as Head Boy - or Girl, come to that - and he was actually very proud that Dumbledore had shown the vision to see beyond Lucius' legacy and judge Draco by his accomplishments rather than his name.

Of course, he only admitted this in the privacy of his own head, and certainly never in front of any other Slytherins. He had repressed his elation when elected and simply said Whom else do you think he'd chose? Potty or that Red Head Weasel. We all know Granger does their homework for them anyway! It had been somewhat touch and go after his behaviour in the 5th year after all, and he still winced to himself when something reminded him particularly of Professor Umbridge, but his father's imprisonment in Azkaban had thoroughly shaken Draco.

He had thought long and hard during the summer between 5th and 6th year about how he wanted to be perceived by his peers, and not only those in his House, and he had chosen to find out what he wanted for himself instead of what his father wanted for him. 6th had been an interesting year, and he had found he was actually a very different person from whom he had always thought he was. He had been made captain of the Quidditch team at the beginning of the 6th year and had spent the following ten months trying to reinvent himself into someone he liked better. For the most part he thought he had done quite well; he was a lot more at ease within his own mind, but he was careful not to be so changed on the outside that he lost his grip on his House.

School work had always come easily to him; he was exceptionally clever and quick to learn, but now that he actually put some effort into studying his marks improved spectacularly and he knew he had given Granger a run for her money last year, and until today the only pleasure he had derived from the little Muggle had come from seeing her grinding her teeth whenever one of the Professors handed him back a paper with the same grade as hers. He had taken to giving her a smug wink and tilting the top of his assignments so that she could read his mark whenever their work was returned, and it was one of his greatest entertainments to see how she fumed silently for the rest of the class.

He knew her well enough to know she was infuriated that he of all people should be the only other student in school with the intellectual capacity to come anywhere near touching hers, much in the same way he had despaired of always being one step behind the bushy headed Muggle witch. Until this year. With his election as Head Boy, this year for the very first time in six years they were on a level footing at last.

Sometimes, Draco had even thought that Professor Snape might burst a blood vessel with the effort of holding in a true smile of approval and trying to maintain his usual dour countenance, when he saw Draco consciously choose not to do some appalling gittish thing that he would done without a second thought during his first five years.

Draco rather liked the new atmosphere he had created around himself over the past year, but now Granger had ruined it all with one carelessly spoken sentence.

He was tense and on edge again, and it felt like a regression to his prior incarnation; he was scowling at his dinner plate as it filled, and Goyle who was sitting in the end seat at Draco's left spared a minute to wonder if this was a bad moment to ask for a favour before he leaned across and did so anyway.

'Draco, I can't get that Transformation homework that McGonagall set us,' he mumbled low. 'I keep trying to change my slippers into bunny rabbits but all I get are fluffy tails on the toes. It's a stupid exercise anyway. I bet she only chose it to embarrass us! Can we go over it later?'

Draco repressed a large sigh. It appeared that life insisted in continuing on as usual around him, regardless of his own inner turmoil. 'Sure Greg,' he said. 'Might as well bring Vince, too. I don't suppose he's getting it either. Come by at about 7.00.'

'Thanks, Draco,' Goyle muttered quietly, then turned and growled at a passing first year who had strayed too close. It didn't suit his image to be asking for homework help, and the subject embarrassed him so much he had almost chosen not to complete the assignment. But he knew Draco would have reamed him out for that; he honestly didn't know what had come over his friend recently. All this sudden caring about schoolwork made his head hurt.

But Goyle was mindful of the fact that the only reason he and Crabbe had passed each year of their schooling and been neither held back nor transferred, was because Draco had harassed them and dragged them up to scrape a passing mark. If he suddenly decided that things needed to change, and they were not so dim that they hadn't noticed this, then they were content as usual to follow his lead.

A burst of giggling from further down the table roused Draco from his increasingly morbid thoughts and looking at Pansy reminded him that he needed to find out if there was any truth in the rumours of a fidelity hex, and if so how could girls from other Houses know about it when he didn't? Draco had always prided himself on the depth and scale of his intelligence gathering; it was incredibly unsettling to think he had heard nothing of a threat that was so personal and invasive..

A couple of younger Slytherins approached him to discuss some issue or other and he made individual appointments for two of them later that evening, but all the time he was considering how best to investigate the Pansy problem.

Eventually, a late arrival for dinner gave Draco the answer he needed. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin in his year was someone with whom Draco had occasion to explore sensitive issues during his younger years. Blaise was a model Slytherin; sly, clever, devious and ambitious. Draco was sure that a financial arrangement could be made with him, which would not only be beneficial to Blaise but would also allow Draco the peace of mind that came from knowing he would not be outsold to a higher bidder. Blaise had shown himself to have highly moral sense of loyalty when 'employed' by someone.

Draco left the table at 6.15 to meet with the fist of the younger students who had requested his assistance. He stopped briefly beside Blaise who was seated with a couple of 6th year boys.

'Blaise,' he began in a low voice, but not by any means whispering or giving the impression that what he was saying might be a juicy secret or anything he would be uncomfortable with anyone overhearing. 'Would you be able to spare me a moment later on this evening, say maybe 9.00, to go over some details?'

'Sure, Draco,' Blaise complied easily. "The Prefect's office suit you?'

'Certainly,' Draco agreed and continued on his way.

The time seemed to creep on leaden feet until 9.00.. Draco was impatient to deal with something tangible. He had passed a day which was turning all of his previous beliefs on their tail, and he wanted to return to the comfort of his familiar Slytherin behaviour. An investigation of Pansy Parkinson was just what he needed to get his head back on the level; something he could control unlike the paths his thoughts had roamed without his permission too often today.

He listened patiently to Michael DeLuca, a first year Slytherin who was having problems with flying lessons which had started the week before. Draco spent fifteen minutes helping him practice the Up command before his next appointment appeared.

This proved to be a more complex problem, as the girl who walked in to the Slytherin Prefect Office was not the one who had approached him in the Great Hall and asked to see him; something which would have made Draco immediately suspicious even if the girl had not been Krista Reid, a 6th year Slytherin who had tried out for the Quidditch Team and been rejected last week.

Alarms went off in his head when he saw how she was dressed; her uniform skirt shortened drastically, her tie missing and her shirt unbuttoned far enough for him to see little pink roses on the cups of her white bra. It wasn't the first time a Slytherin had tried to sleep their way onto the House team and Draco knew that under previous Captains, it had been a tactic that may have worked.

However, Draco's main concern with his Captaincy this year was to create a team that was capable of defeating the Gryffindor Machine. This was his last year to do so, and he was determined to the point of fanaticism. Tryouts for this year's team had taken four days, with numerous callbacks until he was sure he had the best and most dedicated players his House had to offer.

And if Krista Reid thought she could change his mind by flashing a bit of leg, she had seriously underestimated him and her own charms; particularly in light of the fact that since this afternoon there was only one witch in the whole of Hogwarts whose legs he was interested in.

He thought however, it might be fun to tease her for a while until it was time to go over Crabbe & Goyle's homework. He waved her to a chair across form where he sat. 'Have a seat, Krista,' he offered. 'How may I help you? I was expecting Sara.'

Krista collapsed elegantly into the chair opposite him and immediately crossed her legs making sure that her skirt traveled up as she did so, exposing more thigh. Draco puffed out his breath and barely restrained an eye roll; she was so obvious. Granger would never lower herself to behaving like this.

'Draco, ' Krista began in a pouty voice that grated on his nerves. 'I wanted to speak to you about the team, but I think we should get more comfortable first - '

'Krista, ' Draco interrupted before she could get started, realizing suddenly that there was no fun in this at all. He just wanted to get away. 'There is nothing you could say and certainly nothing you could physically do, save for improving your Quidditch skills 100% by Saturday, which would induce me to place you on this year's team. So if that is all you have to say, I shall have to ask you to excuse me!'

Krista's eyes snapped and she bounced up from her chair striding across to place her hands flat on the desk in front of Draco, leaning over to him and exposing a great deal more of her cleavage in the process. Draco pulled a face and stretched backwards away from her.

'Please, Draco,' she whispered. 'I'll do anything you want. Anything at all.....'

'I've told you what I want,' Draco hissed. 'This conversation is over. Now get out of here before I forget that you're supposed to be a Lady. My decision on this year's team is final and you can pass that on to anyone else who seems to be having a problem with it!'

He strode across and opened the office door. 'Thank you for visiting, Krista,' he said coldly as he waited for her to exit.

Krista flounced out of the office, pausing dramatically in the doorway to hiss at him. 'You've lost your edge Draco Malfoy! God only knows what Pansy still sees in you!'

Draco slammed the door behind her and dropped backwards to rest against it. Much as he hated to give any credence to the parting shot of a spoilt bitch, he realized that by Slytherin standards her words were perfectly true. He had lost his edge. This time last week he would have slept with her, played her along for a few days, allowed her to believe she had a chance of changing his mind before he cut her loose without a prayer. She was a beautiful witch, reasonably smart and a good flyer. Her parents were wealthy and established. She did not have bushy hair, a superior attitude and a red and gold tie.

He should never have gotten out of bed this morning. He was suddenly sure if he hadn't gone to double Advanced Potions today his life would still be on track. There had been a particularly brutal Quidditch practice last night which had left him bruised and sore and he had seriously considered staying in bed this morning. Why oh why had he ignored that impulse and got out of bed like a good little student? If he hadn't been in that corridor outside of Professor Snape's lab with Pansy earlier, he wouldn't be standing here comparing Krista Reid unfavorably to that Mudblood Granger, and finding her lacking in every department.

I've lost it this time,

he thought to himself, hitting his head back against the door. He heard Crabbe and Goyle's voices outside the door and took a deep breath before moving on to the next item on his list. At least with these two out of the way, he could concentrate on the issue of Pansy, something he found more interesting than homework he could have done in second year, sexually frustrated Quidditch players or flying instruction for first years. Why had he ever thought that being Head Boy was something he desired?He spent an hour with his two friends, and when they left he was confident that they could perform the spell at that particular moment in time. Whether it stayed with them until class the next day remained to be seen. Draco knew that most other students thought he kept Crabbe & Goyle around for muscle and to present an intimidating front. Certainly as he had been a slight boy with little physical bulk for most of his previous school years, it was a reasonable assumption to make. There was some truth in there, but as usual appearances could be deceptive, and it was also not all of the truth.

In fact, Draco really had no need of any muscle to protect himself; his magical ability was far greater than he ever revealed in the scholastic environment. He had learnt a lot from his father about control and concealment before he chose to take an alternative path from his destined one. He had been capable of basic wandless magic before he had attended Hogwarts, but his father had impressed painfully upon him never to reveal this to anyone at the school and especially not that fool Dumbledore. Draco had suspected Lucius was grooming him for some kind of coup against the Headmaster No, thank you very much! but he had still chosen to keep his own secrets even after his path strayed from Lucius'.

His father had also instructed the 11 year old Draco to keep Crabbe and Goyle close by as their fathers were subject to Lucius himself in the service of You Know Who. For a couple of years Draco had found both boys to be unbelievably irritating, but some time in third year he had lightened up on them and consequently they relaxed their twitchy behaviour around him. Being less nervous of his unpredictable temper and sudden hexing, they began to make fewer mistakes until by 4th year Draco began to find them quite likeable in an affectionate older sibling kind of way. They would never be his equals intellectually but they were loyal and genuinely liked him as opposed to his image, so he tried to do his best for them.

Draco made his way to the prefect's common room to await Blaise. He spent the hour before his scheduled meeting on his own homework, grateful again that he didn't need to put much more effort than this into completing his work. He had achieved higher marks in the past year, but had never understood Granger's obsession with doing more than was assigned to them in class. He had no desire to do extra credit work even in the interest of finally beating her academically. He was too busy to do more schoolwork than even their Professors deemed necessary for them to graduate with a proper education.

He pushed his books away from him as Blaise opened the door and came in. Typically, there was no knock to announce his presence, and he cast a locking and silencing spell behind him. Draco raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, stretching out the kinks of the past three hours.

Blaise smirked at him and tilted his head acknowledging Draco's reaction to his dramatic entry. 'Well, ' he drawled. 'I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me unless it was something - ah, shall we say - not for public consumption?'

'And you would be correct of course,' Draco agreed. 'You know how I appreciate your discretion, but I hope you don't think I only speak to you when I want something?'

'Of course not, Draco,' Blaise agreed congenially, dropping casually into a chair and draping one leg over the arm in a very relaxed manner. 'But if you had just wanted social chitchat we could have accomplished that in the Great Hall. So tell me what we need to do. I haven't had a project since last term. I find myself looking forward to this.'

Draco smiled. Oh yes, he had picked the perfect person for the job. Blaise was efficient, pleasant and discreet, but most of all he wasn't even slightly intimidated by Draco, which meant Pansy wouldn't be able to intimidate him either. She could be quite scary when she went on a rampage, as Draco well knew.

'Well,' he began, rolling his head to stretch the kinks out of his neck. 'This afternoon I heard some very interesting rumours, and I think I would like to get to the truth of the matter, so of course I immediately thought of you to help me.' Blaise raised his eyebrows encouragingly and Draco continued. 'I happened to overhear some girls - Gryffindor girls - talking about Pansy. Well, actually closer to the truth that they were talking about me, and her name came up.'

Draco was not usually modest about his appeal to the witches at Hogwarts, but given the girls involved and the subsequent fact of his having brought himself to a mind blowing orgasm thinking about the Gryffindor Head Girl, Draco was understandable reluctant to name names in the matter.

'In what context were they talking about Pansy - and yourself?' Blaise enquired, going straight for the heart of the matter and bypassing the identities of the parties involved.

'Ah, well, that's the question, isn't it?' Draco sighed. 'It was implied that Pansy had cast a fidelity charm over me. Presumably to inform her if I - ah - play an away game?'

'Of course,' Blaise said. 'Aside from anything else, even if you were in an exclusive relationship with her - and I'm assuming you aren't?' Draco greeted this idea with a snort. 'Even then, it would be insulting and invasive. But with there existing no kind of promise - ' he looked questioningly at Draco who nodded, 'It goes way beyond what is acceptable.'

'Absolutely,' Draco agreed. 'I also need to know, if it exists, whether it is just a warning charm so she knows something has happened, or if it is a reactive charm - having actual physical effects on me.'

'Hmm, yes,' Blaise said, and Draco could see that his mind was already calculating the next move and where he would need to start to find out exactly what was going on. He narrowed his eyes and looked back at Draco. 'And you heard this from girls outside of Slytherin, you say?' he confirmed.

'Yes, ' Draco bit off angrily. 'Which is what causes me most concern. I need to know why a gaggle of Gryffindors knew something which affects me before I did.'

'Well, women do have a network which they only share with other females,' Blaise said with a sigh. 'And no matter how good a guy is at logic and intelligence, the female mind will always defy understanding. However, the important thing is that we know now, and we will get to the bottom of this now that we do!'

Draco nodded. 'You're right, of course, which is why I trust you to do this for me. Do you want to discuss terms now?'

Blaise grinned. 'I think I might enjoy this enough to go Pro Bono,' at Draco's confused look, he waved his hand. 'Muggle reference, no matter. I might have to seduce it out of Pansy. People are notoriously loose tongued in the grip of passion. Seems a natural lead in from one seduction to another. I think I may need a few more - relevant - details from you though.'

Draco nodded for him to continue, but was surprised by what Blaise asked.

"Well, we need to establish how long she might have been using it and its range, so I think I should know whether you have slept with any girls here since the beginning of this term. I think we can assume she developed this over the summer or you would already know about it, and anything you did last year is in the past.'

'No, I've been far too busy with the Team and settling into the Head position to spare time for girls so far,' Draco admitted. 'There was a girl in the village I saw quite regularly last year, but that's over now,' he stopped, surprised at where the words came from. This time yesterday he had been planning his next Hogsmeade trip solely for the purpose of rekindling his relationship with Isabel, which had lapsed while he returned to the family's estate in the summer.

'Ok, good,' Blaise was collating information while Draco tried to make sense of what he had just said. 'That means we only have to concern ourselves with the boundaries of Hogwarts itself. Do you want me to find out if it would be tied also to flying solo?'

Draco looked momentarily confused as he was still wading though the implications of having apparently dumped Isabel, and then it clicked what Blaise was asking, and he realized that in light of this afternoon's actions he certainly needed to know if Pansy was able to tell every time he did - that. Because judging from his sudden lack of interest in anyone who wasn't Granger, he had a feeling that was going to comprise his sex life for the immediate future. He actually felt his face getting red, and he mumbled a quick assent, but not fast enough to prevent Blaise giving him a strange look.

Draco suddenly thought that if he hadn't been in the Potions corridor this afternoon and heard Granger, Ginny and Luna talking, he might have been in bed with Krista right now and things could already have been falling off. He swallowed on this thought and his strange lust for Granger didn't seem quite so bad anymore. At least he would never actually touch her, and so his parts were probably safe until Blaise came up with some answers.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione slept badly that night; her mind could not stop worrying over the events of the day. First, her sudden awareness of Malfoy, and then that episode in the library with Ron. After the second kiss he had not pushed her any further, but had walked with her to the kitchens and waited while she negotiated with the house elves to get a plate sent to her rooms. He then took her hand firmly in his and walked her back to the Gryffindor common room, so that she could enter her bedroom through the private doorway. The common room had been fairly busy as they entered, and although he didn't let go of her hand, he made no attempt to kiss her again, and only squeezed her fingers tightly before she exited to her private rooms.

She had collapsed on her bed, confused beyond belief. Ron knew her so well, he had instinctively known that any public display would have embarrassed her, but still managed to reassure her that he wanted this, and yesterday - this morning even - she would have been tingling with the possibilities that their burgeoning relationship could bring. But now all she felt was confusion. She had thought about another man, one whom she should never have noticed, and all of a sudden her whole life was upside down. And why? Why would she turn her life over for Draco Malfoy. It was beyond certain he would never look back.

As a consequence she was tired and drained when she awoke, and seeing that she had less than an hour to eat breakfast and get to her first class made her more irritable. She tugged her uniform on, and grabbed her book bag as she would not have time to return for it before class.

Giving the password she slipped though to the Gryffindor common room. The Great Hall was actually nearer to reach from her own rooms, but it was hard for her to break her old habits, and going to meals with Harry, Ron and Ginny was ingrained into her psyche. If there was no one she knew waiting for her to eat with them, she would slip back into her rooms and take the quicker route to breakfast.

However, she wasn't ready to admit even to herself that she was nervous of running into Malfoy in their joint common room, and although she was almost equally unsure of whether she was ready to face up to Ron, at least he had the benefit of familiarity, even if this odd nervousness of him was something new for her.

At first glance the common room seemed to be empty, and she was on the verge of returning to her rooms when Ron uncurled himself from one of the armchairs. 'Mione,' he said, and she took a deep calming breath. 'Harry and Gin already went down. I reckoned I'd give you another fifteen minutes or so....'

'Thanks, Ron,' she smiled at him. 'I didn't sleep too well last night - overslept this morning.'

'Me, either,' he agreed, gliding closer to her. 'Of course, I had Harry and Dean to dig me up whether I was ready or not. I wonder if we were both thinking about the same thing?'

I doubt it

, Hermione thought and found herself having to consciously avoid stepping back from him. She had never felt this nervous in his presence before in six whole years, and she was intelligent enough to realise it was her own guilt, real or perceived which was making her twitchy, so she forced her feet to stay still. This was what she had supposedly been waiting for the past six months, wasn't it?Up close Ron was suddenly overwhelming; he had been tall when they first met, but now at over 6 foot, he towered above Hermione with her petite frame. He reached his hand down to catch hers again and linked their fingers together.

'Good morning, Mione,' he whispered huskily as he bent down to kiss her again. Hermione shivered as his mouth found hers and he seemed to take this as an encouraging sign for he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her closer in an even more confident manner than the previous evening. This was a Ron she didn't know, confident and assured, and ordinarily she would have loved it, but when he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and her eyelids drifted shut as she again allowed herself to kiss him back, the shocking image of blond hair and silver eyes dancing across the inside of her eyelids ruined the whole experience for her.

This, coupled with a sudden loud whispering, caused her to gasp and jump back as far from Ron as the circle of his arms would allow. Peering around his shoulder, she saw a trio of 2nd year girls, obviously late for breakfast, giggling behind their hands as they sped down the stairs from their dormitory and across the room to the portrait hole.

Saved by the bell,

Hermione thought shamefully as Ron gave her a hug and let her withdraw from him, but not fast enough that she could miss something hot and hard pressing against her stomach. Another gasp and her eyes uncontrollably dropped to his waistline before she could stop herself, even though she knew this would only encourage him, and she was right. He winked at her and pulled her close to him making no effort to close his school robes or hide his arousal.'Come on, let's eat,' he said hugging her to his side until they exited the common room when he let her go but kept hold of her hand tightly and took her book bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

He seemed quite content to think Hermione's silence was due to the sudden increased intensity in their relationship, and Hermione wished it was that simple. There was no doubt she enjoyed kissing him; it gave her pleasant little tingles all over, but the constant presence of a certain Slytherin at the back of her mind, buzzing like an annoying gnat which you wanted so badly to swat, was preventing her from basking in what should have been the euphoria of a budding new romance and Hermione hated him more than ever because he was ruining this for her. Without even trying to.

Ron kept up a casual conversation all the way to the Great Hall, which didn't seem to require her participation beyond a mumble every now and then. He held the door open for her and then placed his hand in the hollow of her back as they made their way to join the rest of the Gryffindor students at their table. Hermione was not required to sit at the head of the table for breakfast, and she had hoped to slip inconspicuously into her usual seat, but with Ron so visibly claiming her, it was difficult. He had never carried her books before and the presence of his hand in so prominent a position screamed out possession, and the students of Hogwarts were nothing if not fanatically observant of Harry and his friends.

They had barely made their seats when whispers began along the length of the Gryffindor table. Hermione realized that the three 2nd years were already sitting further down the table and had probably shared their juicy bit of gossip the moment they arrived. Harry and Ron exchanged a significant glance, and Ginny looked like she was on the verge of exploding with questions, but she and Harry remained quiet, and following their example no one else dared to broach the subject with them.

Hermione was uncomfortable all through the meal. She felt as if everyone in the Hall was staring at her, and her guilt rose and rose until she couldn't resist searching him out one second longer. Her eyes rose from her plate where she had kept her gaze firmly set from the moment she sat down, and sought out the cause of all her turmoil, at the Slytherin table.

She was shocked to find him staring straight back at her, as if he had been waiting for her to look up, his silvery eyes seeming furious and intense, his beautiful (whoa - what?) features pulled into a fierce scowl. His eyes locked with hers and all of a sudden everyone else in the Hall faded away, and they were the only two people in the room, staring at each other, searching for answers. Hermione couldn't look away, she felt like she had lost control of her gaze. For a moment she actually felt as if she was lifting out of her seat and moving towards the Slytherin table, but suddenly Ron leant over and whispered something in her ear, breaking their eye contact and her mind snapped back to reality.

What in Merlin's name had just happened? Malfoy had never looked at her before. Certainly not without wearing his habitual sneer, or the purebloods are so superior smirk which she hated so much. Ron's questioning look reminded her that he was awaiting an answer to his query and she realized that today was the beginning of her romance with Ron, and it was him she should be looking at all dreamy eyed. She nodded and smiled in response to him, and he looked so happy and shocked that she got a sinking feeling in her stomach and wondered just exactly what she had agreed to.

*******

Draco had not spent an entirely settled night either. He was satisfied with the result of his meeting with Blaise, but when he retired to his bed, he found sleep elusive. He resolutely refused to relieve his aching body for two reasons. Firstly; he absolutely would not admit that he was actually fantasizing about a bushy haired, know it all Gryffindor who had been a constant thorn in his side for 6 years, and that thoughts of her had kept him semi-hard for most of the previous day. Secondly; he didn't want to provoke Pansy's hex unnecessarily until he knew what it consisted of. He refused to even admit that the events immediately after his rejection of Pansy had actually happened.

He had finally slept after midnight, but had woken in the early dawn hours after

dreaming erotically color visions of the Head Girl, to find that his body had made its own decision, betrayed his mind, and created another mess in his bed, and he had been totally unable to return to sleep because all he could think of was the fact that she was laying fast asleep and blissfully unaware of his lustful desires only twenty feet away from him in the Head Girl dormitory. It took all his considerable control to stay put instead of giving in to his baser instincts and sneaking into her room to watch her sleep or maybe even waken her to recreate his dreams.

Consequently his mood was particularly foul this morning, and he watched the Gryffindor table fixedly to see when she came in. He knew she had missed dinner last night. Surely she wouldn't miss two meals in a row? She was a sensible Gryffindor, and must know all about the importance of good diet? PotHead and the She Weasel were there alone, and involved in some animated conversation- probably about Quidditch - they were both on the Gryffindor team, but there was no sign of Granger.

Draco's patience was wearing very thin, when a trio of the shorter variety of Gryffindors tumbled into the Great Hall and sat down, immediately beginning to whisper excitedly to the rest of their housemates. Before Draco's suspicious eyes, the rumour whatever it was - and apparently it was very juicy - spread along the length of the table like a wildfire until it reached the 7th years sitting at the top nearest the staff table.

These students, most of whom Draco knew to a greater or lesser extent due to their shared classes, all looked to be very pleased with the news. The She Weasel was positively beaming, and even Potty was grinning like a loon. Draco had no idea why all these Gryffindors looked so chuffed, and unaccountably he began to get a nervous feeling in his stomach; whatever it was he felt sure it would mean trouble for Slytherin, or most particularly himself.

In his experience, no good had ever come of happy and smiling Gryffindors - who were now all straining to look at the doors to the Great Hall, and why would that be? Only Granger was missing - or not? Where was that other red headed Weasel? Draco's uncomfortable feeling suddenly bloomed into an actual worry, as certain implications began to manifest themselves in his imagination.

And as if to mock him, the doors swung open just then and in stepped Granger accompanied by the Weasel King, who was carrying her book bag and touching her possessively near the waist as they made their way to join his sister and scarhead at the end of the table. They sat down opposite Harry and Ginny, directly facing the Slytherin table. Draco stared at Granger whilst Harry and Ron were grinning wildly at each other across the table and the youngest Weasley was bouncing excitedly in her seat. Granger sat beside the Weasel looking slightly shocked and a little uncomfortable and concentrated on her food as if all the answers to the universe were to be found on her plate.

Draco suddenly comprehended what had happened, and a cold dark feeling began to spiral around his insides. Sometime in the past twenty four hours, in that very time span in which he had actually seen Granger for what seemed the very first time, she had become part of a couple with Ronald Weasley.

Draco had known, along with the rest of the school, that Weasley had been carrying a torch for Granger since their second year, but she had seemed so oblivious to it, and to the opposite sex in general, preferring her book and studies, that most of the students had given up on anything ever transpiring between them. And she had picked now - now of all times - to open her eyes and notice him?

Weasley's body language had changed overnight. His usual uncoordinated shuffle, and casual scruffiness were gone as he sat beside her watching her every move and taking every opportunity to touch her; a brush of her hand, a nudge of her shoulder, a lean towards her ear; his whole attitude shouted Mine; Hands Off, whilst Hermione herself looked dazed but accepting enough.

Draco wanted to hurt someone. He wanted to hurt Ron. He wanted to tear things apart with his bare hands, and throw hexes across the room. He could feel the violence burning inside him and had to sit on his hands to prevent sparks from flying from his fingertips. Denial was apparently not working for Draco. He had never felt anything like this before in his life, but he dimly thought it might be jealousy. He didn't notice the concerned looks that were being cast his way by Dumbledore and his own head of House, Professor Snape.

As if she could feel his eyes watching her, all of a sudden Hermione 's head shot up from her contemplation of her meal and she looked directly at him as if compelled to do so, and Draco was conscious of the whole world dropping away until all he could see was her. He felt the sudden shocking connection between them like it was a physical touch, and his disobedient body responded instantly. He was actually standing from his seat when Weasley leant over to Hermione saying something to her and breaking their connection.

Draco subsided back into his seat and the noise of the room swam back into focus. Students were leaving noisily as class started very soon, and Draco allowed Greg to prod him into movement towards the first class of the day which was a now mandatory course for purebloods, in Muggle Studies. Thankfully shared with Ravenclaw, and he found his palms were sweating as he picked up his books and walked after Greg.

He was unaware of three sets of eyes following his progress out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione's first class was Herbology which all four houses took together, as fewer of the 7th years had chosen it as an elective. Only Hermione, Neville and Parvati took it from Gryffindor, and for Hermione it was an extra credit class as she had not yet decided whether she wanted to join the ministry, go on to university or into medicine after this year. She was quite grateful to be away from the pressure of her own thoughts, and the presence of both Ron and Draco.

But alas, relief was not to be forthcoming. Parvati was dancing with anticipation of being the first person to actually hear the story from Hermione's own lips. They had barely left the castle on their way to the greenhouses before she was demanding details of what had happened and how.

'Mione, what did he do - did he ask you out? Did you get tired of waiting for him to do it? Did you ask him out? He's had a thing for you since third year - what made him do it now? Did he kiss you or did you kiss him? Is he any good -?'

'Parvati,' Neville interrupted her flow. 'Leave Hermione alone. It's private between she and Ron anyway. Maybe she doesn't want to share every last little detail with you!'

Parvati rolled her eyes at Neville. They had been together since the middle of 6th year, and Hermione, Lavender and her sister had been updated with every single moment of their courtship almost while it was occurring, and consequently Hermione knew far more about Neville Longbottom than she had ever wished to. 'Later,' Parvati mouthed to Hermione, winking at her behind Neville's back as they reached greenhouse 3, and Hermione thanked Merlin that she no longer shared a dormitory with Parvati and Lavender. Maybe she could avoid later with the fortuitous use of hiding. She wanted to hide from everyone at the moment, including Ron and she was ashamed of herself.

Professor Sprout was waiting for them wearing a leather apron and stout leather gloves. There were twelve students altogether and so far this year they had been involved only in autumn cleanup and harvesting of certain plants for Professor Snape's use. Hermione vaguely remembered that Professor Sprout had mentioned assigning this term's project today and fervently hoped she would not be paired with Parvati for that would allow the inquisition to begin.

Of course, given the way her week had been going so far (and it was only Tuesday) Hermione should have guessed that Professor Sprout would find some new and incomprehensible form of torture for the Head Girl.

'Hermione, dear, I would like you and Pansy to work together on this,' the professor said handing out clay pots and a large wooden box to each pair as she assigned them.

Pansy and Hermione looked at each other in consternation. They had been paired once before in a 6th year Transfiguration project, but this had only been for 2 classes and had not been exactly an experience either had ever wished to revisit.

Hermione couldn't believe how badly her day was going. Of all people to be assigned to, at this moment she could think that only Draco Malfoy would be a worse choice. A major part of her current disquiet stemmed from her guilt over her bitchiness towards Pansy in the potions corridor yesterday, coupled with a vague (and never-to-be-admitted) fear that she fancied Pansy's boyfriend. Or Not-Boyfriend. But whatever he was or was not to Pansy, she was obviously jealous and possessive of him. Just great!

Strangely enough it was Pansy who recovered first. She nodded curtly to Hermione as she moved over to join her assigned partner. 'Hermione,' she acknowledged briefly, and this surprised Hermione even more. Pansy generally preferred Mudblood as a salutation, or in the presence of teachers, a curt Granger was the politest she could expect. She didn't think in the previous six years she had ever heard Pansy call her by her first name. Even Draco Malfoy had used it more - mostly to mock her, true, but he had spoken it nonetheless. And how had her thoughts twisted themselves around to him again?

'Pansy,' she greeted back, and they sat down at a respectable distance from each other as Professor Sprout began to give instructions on the use of the wooden box. It had a glass lid, and Professor Sprout explained it was an individual greenhouse. They would be growing a Venis Venomulim within it, which was a particularly aggressive and venomous predatory plant that captured its prey by injecting a poison into the body to paralyze it so the Venis could digest it at leisure.

According to Professor Sprout the plant preyed mostly on domestic animals which wandered too near to its vine like tendrils. A mature plant could grow to three feet high, but the vines could have a reach of six to nine feet. Luckily they were rare in Britain as they disliked the cool damp climate. Hence the individual greenhouses, which were lead lined and had a volume mass illusion charm cast upon them to enable the plants to grow to maturity in a strictly controlled environment, and also to enable the students to move the boxes more easily.

'Why would we want to be cultivating such an unpleasant plant?' Parvati asked the question that was on every student's mind.

'Indeed,' Professor Sprout answered. 'Why should we do such a thing? Well, obviously for all its apparent unpleasantness, it has a useful function. The sap is prolific and has many other qualities aside from the production of an antidote to the Venis' own poison. It is particularly important in the production of infertility potions. Once you have grown and harvested your plant, you will be using the sap for your NEWT potions paper with Professor Snape. This plant is going to be a very important part of your whole final year at Hogwarts. But I expect that by 7th year you should all be mature and experienced enough to complete this assignment in good health and with all your body parts intact!'

The students all exchanged glances and rolled their eyes at each other. Hermione wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that she was paired with Pansy in the care of such a dangerous plant. It could go either way; Pansy might expect her to do all the work, and thus she could ensure it was all done correctly but be overstretched by the workload. Or Pansy could insist on doing her share and possibly cause an accident to occur to either herself or Hermione. It wasn't that Pansy was an unskilled witch, or that Hermione thought she might deliberately sabotage a project, but without conceit, she knew that Pansy was not in her own league, and unlike other partners less skilled than herself with whom Hermione had worked before, she didn't think Pansy would take kindly to being - guided - by someone she regarded as a social inferior to her in every way.

'Is the venom fatal or just a paralytic?' Hermione asked Professor Sprout, wanting to arrange all her liabilities clearly in her head.

'From a seedling, all you might suffer is a few days cramping and vomiting in the hospital wing, but a mature plant anything from six months of age is quite capable of killing an adult human. Which is of course why Professor Snape keeps an antidote and why we send to sap to him each year when the plants mature sufficiently.' Sprout replied.

'Professor, I'm not taking potions this year,' Pansy put in. 'I didn't need it for my future plans. How will that affect my grade?'

Hermione frowned. Truthfully, whilst listening to Professor Sprout extol the questionable virtues of the Venis, she had forgotten that Pansy was not in her Advanced Potions class. She hadn't really paid much attention to the girl in the past six years, unless Pansy was actually in her face, insulting her or mocking her, with Malfoy smirking and egging her on in the background. It was a valid question and she wondered how it would affect both their marks.

'Professor Snape will be making allowances for that. Hermione will not have to do all the work alone,' Sprout said, assuring both girls. 'Of course, your own marks will be adjusted accordingly, Miss Parkinson. Now, let's get started with habitat. Neville, Jayne, come with me, we need to get some potting soil. The rest of you, begin reading at P262, and I will want to hear what you have learnt about the Venis when we get back.'

Professor Sprout scuttled out of the greenhouse with Neville and Jayne, a 7th year Ravenclaw, on her heels. There was a rustling of pages as nine of the remaining ten students opened their text books, but Pansy just studied Hermione out of the corner of her eye as if she was making up her mind whether to speak or not.

Finally, she apparently decided to take the chance. 'Hermione,' she began, and Hermione was again surprised at the use of her name. 'I know you and I haven't been friends or even really acquaintances since we started here -'

'True,' Hermione agreed dryly.

Pansy beamed as the sarcasm sailed right over her head. It was quite unnerving, and Hermione had never before thought she had a nervous disposition. 'It is true,' she said excitedly. 'But you're a Gryffindor and the Head Girl, so I figure you're kind of morally obliged to help other students. It's what your sort does. So, I need you to help me with something.'

My sort?

Hermione thought as she sighed. "Pansy, I will do whatever I need to do to make sure we both get a good grade on this project. You know that.''Oh, of course I do,' Pansy dismissed airily. 'That's not what I'm talking about. I need you to do something more personal for me. I wasn't sure if I could ask you at first, but then I saw that you and that Weasel person had gotten together, so I knew it was OK!' she finished brightly, and Hermione was forced to admit that her assessment of the other girl yesterday had been accurate in spite of its harshness. What a total airhead! And what possible influence could hearing that she had started dating Ron have had on Pansy's decision to ask a favour of her? Wait - they already knew in Slytherin that she and Ron were an item? Did Draco - No, Hermione, you are not going there. No, no no nonono! That way lies insanity!!

'What would you like me to do?' Hermione asked. 'I'm not making any promises though, but I will listen to what you have in mind and consider it.'

Pansy looked furtively around the greenhouse and upon finding that all the other students were conscientiously reading their texts, she sidled closer to Hermione and in a low voice confessed, 'I want you to watch Draco for me -'

"What?'

Hermione squeaked, and would have leapt out of her seat if Pansy's hand had not shot out and held her down with a bruising grip. 'You want me to what?' she hissed, stopping Pansy mid flow.The other students turned to look at her curiously and Pansy gave them a patented Slytherin scowl which sent most of them back to their text books. Only Parvati continued studying her friend and the blonde girl for a moment longer. Hermione had never had a panic attack but she thought this must be what one felt like. Had Pansy heard her yesterday? Oh, God, what if Pansy could perform Legillimency? What if she could tell that Hermione had been looking at Draco and had seen him? Her palms began to sweat, and she could barely hear what Pansy was saying to her above the sound of her racing heartbeat in her ears.

'Shhh,' Pansy was muttering. 'Don't be so bloody dramatic Granger. You have no idea how much I hate having to ask you of all people, to help me. But I am intelligent enough to know that I can't do everything myself, and as you are Head Girl and share a common room with Draco, there really is no one else!'

Hermione calmed slightly, wondering if what Pansy really wanted was a spy. Surely anyone in Slytherin would do a better job of that than her, she thought, and said so.

'No, Hermione, you have to help me,' Pansy pleaded, and Hermione got the odd impression that she was on the brink of tears. But then again, she was a Slytherin and it could all be a well rehearsed act. 'I know you don't like Draco - or any of us really, and I expect we probably deserve that - well a bit maybe. But I'm in love with Draco and I'm losing him and I don't know why. I was hoping that now you're with Weasley, you could relate to how I'm feeling better...'

Her relief that she hadn't been caught out in her sudden awareness of Draco Malfoy totally overshadowed any consideration of the absolute weirdness of this conversation in Hermione's head. It was this overwhelming relief which prompted her to allow Pansy to continue instead of shutting her down with an immediate refusal as she should have done.

"I am not going to spy for you, Pansy,' she said. 'And I honestly don't know what makes you think I could help you anyway. Malfoy can't stand me, and I don't know why you think I of all people could gain his confidence. If you think he's slipping away and you feel he's worth keeping you would be better off talking to him about this. Not me.' She was quite proud of this response, delivered calmly and logically with not a sign of her own inner turmoil.

'I don't want you to spy,' Pansy protested. 'But you share quarters with him, and you must be able to see - things. You are so much closer to him than anyone else this year. I just need to know if he's got someone new - if I still have a chance. Please Hermione, I'm so afraid of losing him -'

'But Pansy, you're wrong. I hardly ever see him. Just because the Head Boy and Girl have adjoining quarters doesn't mean they are always together. I only sleep in my room; I still spend most of my time with my friends. I've probably only passed Malfoy in the sitting room three times since the beginning of school, and it was only passing. Not even a conversation!'

'Draco hardly ever comes back to Slytherin,' Pansy said mournfully. 'He spends all his time in his new rooms, if he isn't tutoring those idiots Vince and Greg, or listening to all those idiot lower years running to him with their problems. I miss him so much.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at Pansy. Apparently she had no idea how revealing that complaint had been. Was Draco really changing that much? She had of course noticed he'd been less confrontational with Ron and Harry last year but to have changed within his own house was unbelievable.

'Of course, Vince and Greg would never have made it past 4th year without him,' Pansy grumbled, 'But at least I could see him then.' She looked at Hermione then and must have been alarmed by her expression, because she suddenly rushed on. 'Don't you see, that's why this is perfect! I Just want an impartial opinion on whether he has moved on. After that, I'll deal with it myself. There isn't a single other girl I'd trust in the whole school not to have an ulterior motive. It is Draco after all.'

'But -' Hermione tried again, unwilling to admit that all of a sudden she found herself in that untrustworthy category as well.

Pansy shook her head and pleaded silently with her eyes. 'Please Hermione. I'm not asking you to do anything, not give names or follow him around the school, just to have an opinion. You'd have opinions anyway - you're probably the most opinionated witch in the whole school. You have opinions on everything. Just have an opinion on this for me!'

Hermione looked at her curiously. She could feel herself wavering and not alas because of Pansy's feelings. How ironic that Pansy should trust Hermione when she herself felt she was the most dangerous choice of all.

'Don't say anything now.' Pansy hissed. 'Professor Sprout is coming back. Think about it and tell me after class.'

*******************

'Why do you want him back so badly?' Hermione asked. Herbology had finished, and they were walking back to the castle. Neville and Parvati had given Hermione some very odd looks when she stayed beside Pansy, but seemed to believe that she would need to straighten out some rules for the project and had moved on ahead. 'Even I know he's never been an - exclusive - kind of person. He's been drifting away from you for quite a while now.'

'Yes, but he always comes back to me,' Pansy said, and Hermione made a face. 'Bleugh, I know what you're thinking - where's my pride? There's more things to life than pride, Granger. I only hope Weasley is man enough to show you that!'

Hermione couldn't prevent the question, even though she knew the very asking of it implied agreement to Pansy's request. 'Is he really that good?'

'Granger, you have no idea,' Pansy replied and Hermione supposed that was exactly the problem. She was inexperienced and she didn't know. Maybe soon she would. Ron had certainly seemed capable enough in the kissing department.

'Anyway,' Pansy continued. 'Dumbledore will be expecting you to start arranging the Halloween and 7th year social soon, that's part of your Head student duties isn't it? You'll have to spend plenty of time with him when that starts, so you could go and get an early jump on it. Give you an excuse to start up a conversation with him. It's the sort of thing he'd expect from a - conscientious Gryffindor like you!'

Hermione had the distinct feeling that Pansy had changed her description at the last minute and wondered what unflattering thing had been her first choice of adjective. However, again Pansy's words managed to unsettle Hermione. Of course she had known that the coordination of the social calendar fell upon the Head Boy and Girl; it had been explained to them both as they had met with the faculty on the second day of term, and they had both been prefects for the previous two years. At that time, Hermione had vaguely hoped that Malfoy would pull his weight, and not leave it all to her, but any consideration of the time they would need to spend together had been irrelevant to her.

She couldn't believe that it had been Pansy who had brought back to mind just how much time she would actually have to spend with the Head Boy in the not to distant future, whether she was forming an opinion or not. She couldn't believe that with all the other thoughts which had been running rampant around her traitorous mind in the past twelve hours, she could have overlooked that.

'Ok,' she said abruptly. Perhaps she would feel better if she could make herself believe she was only with him for Pansy's sake, and not for any desire on her own part to be there. 'I will look and see what I think. There will be no names and no telling of tales. I will give you an opinion, and that's all it will be. My own personal opinion. I might be right or I might be wrong, but you will never use my opinion as basis for any malice or harm towards anyone, male or female. Are we quite clear on that?'

'Yes, yes. No names. Be nice. Absolutely clear. Thank you Hermione,' Pansy trilled.

'As a matter of curiosity, what made you decide he was seeing someone else?' Hermione asked. 'It might help if I knew what to look for as I am hardly on familiar terms with Draco Malfoy.' Bad, bad Hermione. What has come over you?

Pansy looked speculatively at Hermione and decided to give as much of the truth as she thought necessary. Besides, it would probably shock the virginal little Gryffindor, and Pansy had a bad taste in her mouth. She had spent too long today playing nice in order to get Granger to do as she wanted, and it was making her feel dirty to be so polite to the little Mudblood.

She lowered her voice confidentially and leaned towards Hermione. Instinct made Hermione lean in also. 'Well, I was in the middle of giving him a blow job yesterday afternoon, and he just changed his mind. Just like that. Shoved me away before he had cum -' she chanced a look at Hermione to see if she should elaborate, and finding that the Head Girl was absolutely scarlet, decided to shock her even more. 'He left me there on my knees and charged off with such a boner, I'm surprised he could even walk. So don't tell me he didn't have someone else in mind to take care of it for him. Draco doesn't need to play solo.'

She looked at Hermione as she finished, seemingly awaiting a response, and Hermione struggled with her embarrassment to find an appropriate reply. Pansy looked at the ground to hide her delight in the other girl's reaction. It was almost enough fun to be worth demeaning herself in front of the Muggle.

Truly, she would never have been as graphic about her experience with Draco were she talking to any of the other girls in the school for she felt threatened by all of them, and was unwilling to share the tiniest detail about Draco in case they tried to take him from her.

In fact, Pansy's relationship with Draco was not at all what most people imagined; aside from a few episodes during the 5th year when Draco had been going through his insane Umbridge phase, there had actually been no sex at all. If she offered frequently enough, he might sometimes let her give him a blow job, and if she was really lucky he might use his fingers to finish her off, but as he had never yet publicly denied any of her insinuations, Pansy kept right on making them.

She knew perfectly well about the girl in Hogsmeade, a witch in her early twenties who had attended Beauxbatons, and had worked for the Apothecary. She knew also that Draco hadn't visited her all Summer and thanks to Pansy he now wouldn't be doing so any time soon. This was her last year to catch him, and she was prepared to do anything necessary. Even demeaning herself before little Miss Perfect Head Girl Granger.

Actually, if he hadn't been so rich and gorgeous, Pansy might have given up on him entirely in the past year. She certainly wasn't sure she liked the way he had been behaving since his father had been sent to Azkaban. He had lost his wild and ruthless streak, and although he was just as cutting and snarky in confrontational situations he didn't instigate them in the manner he had been used to.

He had spent a lot more time in the previous year actually studying in the Slytherin common room. He openly tutored those moronic idiots, Crabbe and Goyle, and although he had been doing that for years, he had hidden the fact before. And he actually stopped abusing his prefect status.

This term, since he had been awarded the Head Boy position, Pansy had hardly seen him; he had private rooms, his own study. He only returned to the Slytherin dormitories to conduct his counseling sessions in his Head Boy capacity. Pansy didn't have the ability to take classes at the level he was studying and she was getting desperate. When he had allowed her to maneuver him into the nook off the potions corridor yesterday, she had let herself hope that things were on the mend between them, but his sudden rejection of her when she was sure that he was on the very edge of cumming had led her to today's desperate act.

Hermione could barely think of how to respond to Pansy. She knew quite well that the Slytherin girl was deliberately trying to shock her; she must be completely desperate to ask for help from someone she despised as thoroughly as she did Hermione, and was lashing out even as she asked for help.

Fortunately, Pansy couldn't know that Hermione's embarrassment came not from her crudeness but from the gloriously graphic colour images of a naked and aroused Draco Malfoy that her words created in Hermione's mind. A Draco who was aroused by her and waiting sprawled on that Slytherin bed she had envisaged yesterday for her to join him.

Hermione restlessly pressed her legs together and got a further shock from the tingles that spread out from her aching centre. Oh, God, this was wrong on so many levels she couldn't even begin to comprehend the magnitude of the wrongness of it.

'Pansy, I think this is a really bad idea, after all.' She said firmly. She couldn't do this. There was no way she could allow herself to go anywhere near Draco Malfoy when just thinking about him could make her ache like this. Gods, what about Ron?

'Nonsense,' Pansy said brightly. 'It will work out just fine. You just tell me if you think he's seeing someone new, and I'll take care of the rest.' They had just reached the castle and before Hermione could say another word, Pansy spun away in the direction of the dungeons and Hermione was left standing in the doorway, uncomfortably aroused and sure she had just agreed to something really stupid.

It was only much later that night as she tossed restlessly in her bed trying not to think about the fact that certain blond Slytherins were laying (possibly naked, Oh God) not twenty feet away, when Pansy's parting words came back to her, and she remembered what Amber Sheldon had said yesterday about Pansy casting a fidelity hex on Draco.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione stood in her bedroom breathing deeply, trying to calm her nerves. She had no idea what had come over her lately; the old Hermione Granger would never have allowed Pansy Parkinson to coerce her into doing something so distasteful. The old Hermione certainly wouldn't be sweating at the thought of facing up to Draco Malfoy. Good Lord, she had never been scared of him in six years before; Ron and Harry had even had to restrain her on occasion from challenging him over some of his more obnoxious pranks. And now, all of a sudden she couldn't walk into a room which contained him just because she had become aware of him as a member of the opposite sex?

All the hormones which the other girls in school had probably discovered and learnt to control as far back as their 4th year, seemed to have materialized overnight; she knew she was a late developer but where was the justice in her being hit all at once with three years worth of teenage lust and insecurities?

In an effort to calm herself for this task, Hermione had spent the previous hour or so in a heated (for her) snogging session with Ron. She had some twisted logic in her mind that if she could still feel the touch of another man on her skin, she wouldn't be so affected by her recent strange awareness of Malfoy. Needless to say, it had been unsuccessful on more than one level. Obviously, as she was still standing here in front of her door suffering from nerves, it hadn't calmed her in any way, and there had certainly been nothing calm about Ron just now when she had drawn back from him saying she had Head Girl duties to attend to.

He had been flushed and undeniably aroused; he was making no effort now to hide the effect she had on his body, even gently encouraging her to touch him there. His red hair had been tousled and Hermione had thought he looked really cute as he pouted when she withdrew from him. She knew Ron was more than ready to go further but he knew that she wasn't and had made no move to push her into something she didn't want. He was so sweet and caring of her, how could she still be standing here all a dither over Draco Malfoy when she had a wonderful boy like Ron just waiting for her to give him a sign?

She didn't want to admit that this was the actual problem. She thought Ron was cute, rather like a new puppy, all eager eyes and bouncy enthusiasm. Cute was not the first word that came to mind when thinking about Draco Malfoy. Manipulative, sneaky, intelligent, intense, evil - gorgeous, sexy, dangerous. No, no, NO! Bad brain! Hermione wanted to hit her traitorous head against a wall. She could see now why it was so appealing to the house elves.

No amount of procrastination would change the fact that she needed to get out there and face him. In spite of her selfish reasoning, Pansy had been correct in saying that the plans for both Halloween and the Seventh Year Social, a new event now in its second year needed to be made, and it was a joint duty between them. The Headmaster had made clear in his speech about unity and serving the school; which at the time he had made it, two days after the beginning of term, Hermione had felt was a thinly veiled warning to herself and Draco to put the past behind them and co-operate with each other this year.

The 5th and 6th year prefects were supposed to help, as she well recalled from her two years in that position, but the ideas and leadership were meant to originate from the top of the tree and that meant Draco and her.

She took a deep breath and gave her arms a shake to loosen up the tension knots she could feel forming in her shoulders, and before she could find another reason to delay, she marched out of her bedroom into their joint study. As she had expected, Draco was there, and he looked up startled at the force of her entry. She had not registered how much time Draco was spending in this room until Pansy had mentioned that he had more or less abandoned the Slytherin dormitories, but now it was all she was conscious of.

Every time she entered her rooms, she would wonder if he was out there, sitting in one of the comfy chairs, reading or working at his desk. Until tonight, this unwelcome awareness had led her into staying later and later in the Gryffindor tower, but now it was another Friday closer and she had to address the Halloween issue because he obviously wasn't going to. She conveniently dismissed the thought that he would have been unable to do so even had he tried because she had been avoiding - hiding from - him for the past ten days. But now they were into October and something had to be done.

'Where's the fire, Granger?' Draco drawled now, tossing his quill down on his desk and tipping his chair back onto two legs. He stretched his arms out behind his head which made the green Quidditch jumper he was wearing ride up from the waistband of his trousers to give her a tantalizing view of a flat stomach lightly dusted with golden hair. Her voice froze in her throat, and all she could do was open her mouth and make a small groan. 'Granger?' he repeated when no cutting remark was forthcoming from the acerbic Head Girl. He dropped the chair legs back to the floor and propped his elbows up on his desk, chin resting in one hand and examined Hermione. 'What's the matter? Kneazel got your tongue?'

The corrupted Muggle phrase sounded so strange coming from Draco Malfoy's mouth that Hermione couldn't help snorting in surprise, and in an instinctive gesture which went back to pre-Hogwarts years in her local primary school, she stuck her tongue out as if to prove its continued existence, and waggled it at him.

Almost immediately she realized how provocative the gesture was for someone so far past their 11th year of age. Apparently Draco thought so too, for the usual smirk froze on his face and his eyes fixed on her mouth. Hermione was forced to consider again just what a bad idea it had been to spend the past hour in the back of the library making out with Ron. Instead of satisfying her all it had done was get her worked up to the point where she just wanted to jump Draco Malfoy and let him take over her sexual education. What a teacher he would be!

Draco for his part had been avoiding thinking about how intimate it could be if Hermione would just spend less time in her House tower, and share their study as was anticipated when assigning a private area to the Head Girl and Boy. He was aware they should be addressing their first joint duty, but since he barely saw her outside of classes it had been hard to catch a moment with her.

Her sudden eruption into their study tonight as if she had been propelled into the room by some invisible force was a shock that caused an immediate reaction in his trousers. He had tried to cover his arousal with sarcasm, but that rebounded on him in the most erotic way. He had been trying to look at a point above her head, but the sudden sight of her little pink tongue wiggling around in front of him drew his attention straight to her lips and delicious images of what that hot, moist red mouth would feel like enclosed around the hardest part of his body made him writhe in his chair.

Her mouth was red and puffy, and she looked thoroughly kissed...wait a minute, that was real, not a part of his fantasy! Granger was standing right in front of him looking thoroughly kissed and he had not laid a finger on her! By Merlin's Beard, she had come straight to him from Weasley's arms! He could now see a couple of short hairs clinging to her school robes; the bright copper red seeming to glow against the black fabric, taunting him as if Weasley was right there laying claim to her. Bugger off, Malfoy. I saw her first! She's mine now!

His gaze darkened as he scowled at her mouth, and his sudden inexplicable moodiness when he had been almost joking with her moments before made Hermione even more nervous, and she instinctively licked her suddenly dry lips. This did nothing to help Draco's treacherous arousal which was threatening to escape his iron control. He leapt out of his chair and turned his back to her prowling towards the fireplace to try and hide his unwelcome erection from her. What a foolish idea to wear these loose fitting Muggle khakis; they were comfortable for lounging around working on his project, but the loose cut also had the unfortunate effect of allowing plenty of room for his erection to create a prominent tent which he couldn't possibly hide from her if he had stayed put.

'Malfoy,' Hermione began, trying to get a grip on herself and concentrate on the business at hand. 'It's getting very close to the Halloween feast, and it's our job to organise and conduct the arrangements. I think we need to call a prefects meeting immediately and get things moving..'

Draco grunted. Things were certainly moving in his pants, he thought grimly. He had sunk to a new all time low of getting even more turned on by her lecturing voice. Unable to will his erection down, he resorted to casting a localized concealment charm onto his crotch so she couldn't see the effect she had on him, and as he was concentrating on rebuilding his snark, her voice came to him again much closer now.

'This is our last year here,' she was saying. 'I was hoping we could start behaving like adults. You know, I had noticed that you weren't quite so thoroughly obnoxious as usual last year, and when you were elected Head Boy, I was hoping that the faculty and Governors knew something the rest of us students didn't about a change in your behaviour. We are stuck with each other for the rest of this year, so can't we just try to be civil and get the job done?'

Hermione was quite proud of herself for delivering that little speech without stammering or faltering. In fact she had written it out last week after her surreal conversation with Pansy in Herbology and had been rehearsing in front of her mirror - complete with unwelcome critique - for the past five nights. Truthfully, she had not expected to be able to deliver it in its entirety. For no matter how much planning you did people were unpredictable and an interruption or a single word from Draco could easily have changed the direction of the whole conversation, but this was Hermione, and she felt more in control with something prepared before she confronted him.

Of course, the fact that she managed to deliver the whole speech to the back of his head was a bonus she hadn't dared anticipate.

She was watching him very closely as he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before turning to face her wearing what she immediately thought was a very forced bland expression. 'Yes, we should do that, Granger,' he agreed in a mild voice which she immediately suspected of sarcasm.

He prowled up to her and circled behind her with an intense look of concentration on his face. Hermione fidgeted, uncomfortably aware that his proximity was focusing her nervousness and turning it into something else.

Draco wished he could have avoided looking at her as his eyes were hopelessly drawn to her mouth. He had never in his life envied any Weasley anything, until her. She must have literally just left the boy, her swollen lips hadn't even had a chance to heal. Draco wondered how far she had gone with Weasley in the two weeks they had been an official item. Had she climbed straight out of his bed or worse, had they been together in Hermione's single room, just inches away from where he sat studying? With a silencing charm cast he would never even know they were there.

The thought made him feel sick, and he wondered if there was a revealing spell which would alert him when she placed wards around her doors, and a moment later was horrified at how sick and obsessed that sounded. However, he couldn't resist finding out if she had been with Weasley tonight. As he circled her he reached out with his senses to try and detect any scent of sex on her. One of the most essential skills in a good potion maker was their sense of smell. Draco was very good at potions. He could find no trace of sex on her and he sighed in relief. If her lips were still that well kissed, there couldn't have been time for her to have showered eau de Weasley off herself before coming to their study.

Draco didn't realise he had lingered so long behind her until she began to fidget nervously, and her stirring sent another interesting aroma to his heightened senses; the longer he remained near her the stronger it became. It appeared that although she may not have been aroused when she left Weasley, her nervousness around him was resulting in the most delicious scent of arousal that Draco had ever breathed, and his mind buzzed with the implications, rendering him speechless until Hermione at length nudged him viciously in the stomach with her elbow and hissed, 'Malfoy, are you alive in there? You've been staring at the wall for the past five minutes!'

Oh yes, he was alright now that he knew the Head Girl was not indifferent to him!

'OK, Granger, what did you want to talk about?' he asked, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter in hand. He had plenty to think about when he was once again in the privacy of his room, and could start plotting her downfall.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that he was going to be amenable to her. Perhaps he really had grown up - dumping Pansy was surely indicative of a greater level of maturity! Bitch, the small voice in the back of her head whispered. Pansy's your friend now - aren't you doing her dirty work for her? And suddenly Hermione couldn't for the life of her understand what had possessed her to agree to Pansy's little insanity. Her mouth fell open and it was as if a veil had been lifted from in front of her eyes. What on earth had she been thinking?

Then Draco moved in front of her waggling his fingers in her face and she realized she had blanked out in much the same way he had previously. They both obviously had some separate issues going on here. He tilted his head to one side, and gave her a quizzical glance. 'Granger - must be catching,' he remarked dryly and winked at her.

Oh, God, Draco Malfoy winked at her. Merlin, he was gorgeous. How had she never seen it before? The sudden quirky sense of humour he seemed to have developed only made him seem even more attractive to her. She wasn't going to be able to do this. Not any of it. Not Pansy. Not working with him, and not sharing these rooms. She was going to make a fool of herself, hurt Ron intolerably, become the laughing stock of the school and die of embarrassment before she ever sat her NEWTS.

Now he had her totally flustered, Draco was feeling more in control. The idea that the icily composed Head Girl was unsettled around him strangely grounded his own nerves. Until this very moment he could never have imagined she would ever feel anything for him other than loathing, but her reactions tonight tantalized him with the possibility that he just might have a chance with her, that he could possibly take her away from the Weasel.

Surely after he'd had her this insane lust would go away. There had never been a witch he had continued to want after he had taken her once or twice. His confidence back on an even keel, he dared to take Granger's wrist, trying to ignore the tingles which shot up his arm and along to every nerve ending from where their skin touched, and led her over to the sofa, pushing her down onto the cushions and sitting on a small occasional table directly in front of her.

'Ok, so I expect it's time to talk about Halloween,' he said, surprising her again with his perception. 'I guess it's our job to choose a theme, but I think we should delegate the actual task of decorating the Hall to the prefects. Aren't you getting a bit sick of the whole floating pumpkin thing? I know I am; it seems like it's all we've done for the past few years. I think it might be time for something completely different. How about we pick a Muggle movie and decorate the Hall with scenes from it, then all of the prefects could come as characters, and everyone else can dress up how they want. We could even conjure up a screen and have the movie playing in a loop all night so people can watch it if they want a rest from dancing. It would certainly please old Dumbledore and be a good experience for all of us in compulsory Muggle studies.'

Speechless, Hermione wasn't sure which shocked her the most - that Malfoy had even given thought to their duties, or that he had done so and managed to come up with such a clever and radical suggestion. She stared at him trying to formulate a reply, and he waited patiently for her to digest his idea. 'Actually, I think that's an excellent idea, Malfoy,' she managed at last. 'Did you have a movie in mind? Have you any idea how to make Muggle technology work in Hogwarts? Do you think the Professors will even accept such an idea?'

Hermione continued to be surprised by the extent of Draco's ideas about the Halloween party; apparently he had been researching with their Muggle Studies teacher, Professor DiBona since the beginning of term, and even now had a charmed dvd player in his bedroom. Before she knew it curfew had rolled around, and a yawn involuntarily sneaked up on her. 'Ok, that's enough for tonight,' she said. 'I'll call a full meeting of the prefects for Monday evening. Does that suit you?'

She looked at Draco to confirm his agreement, and found that sometime during their discussion he had moved from the table and was now sitting beside her on the sofa, his thigh pressed against hers, and with this realisation the flock of butterflies began swarming in her belly again. She stumbled up from the sofa and retreated into her room without waiting for a reply, followed by Malfoy's laughter, and she scowled at her flushed reflection in her mirror annoyed with herself for thinking he had changed.

Only now it was worse. Now he no doubt knew she was - aware - of him, and he found it funny. Just because he had one single moment of civility, didn't mean he had reformed. It just proved he had become more sneaky with age. He had laughed at her! Just as she had expected! Next all of Slytherin would know and Pansy would be putting hexes on her. Damn.

Draco watched her all the way into her room until her door closed behind her, admiring her bum in the tight jeans. She was interested. She might be fighting it right now, but given how much time they would need to spend together this year, it was a losing battle. He would have her and the thought pleased him no end; so much that he had broken into spontaneous laughter at the thought. He actually felt quite giddy, something which was quite new to him.

'Yes!' he crowed quietly, flopping back onto the sofa to enjoy his certainty, quite unaware that Hermione had heard and misinterpreted his pleased reaction and was, even as he celebrated, sitting in her room rebuilding every one of the walls which had fallen this evening by recalling his every obnoxious act of the previous six years.


	7. Chapter 7

Predictably, all the prefects were very excited about Draco's idea. Hermione sat in a corner of the Prefect's Office and watched Draco conduct the meeting. He was constantly surprising her this year. It turned out he was a skillful and charismatic speaker. He drew the other prefects in with his enthusiasm, then easily assigned tasks without any argument from them.

As the meeting broke up and the other prefects left, Hermione planted herself firmly in their midst as they spilled out of the door so as to avoid the private confrontation with Draco which she thought he might be trying to maneuver. She heard more than one of the other students expressing confusion at this unexpected side to Malfoy's character. Apparently she wasn't alone in being surprised at how easily he took the reins of leadership. All the female prefects except for Ginny, who only looked thoughtful, were giggling to their counterparts and pretending to swoon at this new and improved Malfoy.

He had smiled with them and made jokes, and this was behaviour they had never seen from the Prince of Slytherin before. Since most of them had thought he was one step away from Adonis beforehand anyway, Hermione predicted a whole new outbreak of Draco-worshipping to overrun the school now that they had seen what a difference a smile made to his usually haughty expression.

The only other person who looked as disgruntled as Hermione felt was Pansy, still a 7th year prefect for Slytherin. She grabbed Hermione's wrist when they had achieved a slight distance from the prefect's meeting room, and pulled her aside.

'Don't tell me that's normal behaviour for Draco,' she hissed to Hermione as soon as she felt they were sufficiently private. 'He never tell jokes or smiles outside of Slytherin. Merlin, he actually sounded like Potter during that meeting!' She managed to pronounce Harry's name in such a tone that it sounded like a particularly disfiguring disease. 'It has to be another witch. He's lost his mind. Have you seen anything?'

'No, I haven't, Pansy,' Hermione replied, girding herself to tell Pansy that their short-lived arrangement was over. She was sure that it would result in Pansy trying to sabotage their Herbology project at the very least - or possibly something even worse - but her distaste for the whole idea of spying on someone and especially Malfoy, for Pansy had grown so immensely that she couldn't ignore it any longer. And you want to hide from Draco, not spend more time in his company, prodded that jeering little voice which she had become so familiar with over the past week. Come to know and hate.

'Look, Pansy,' she continued. 'I'm sorry but this whole thing with Draco and this new girl, real or not - it's just not me. If you want to find out if she exists, you need to do it without me. But I will just tell you this; at this moment in time I would say there is no one, and he's just studying for his NEWTS, like we should all be. Tonight is the longest I have spent anywhere near him so far this year, and I don't plan for it to be any different from now onwards. Sorry.'

Liar, Liar,

that voice taunted her as she turned away from Pansy and made to walk off down the corridor, but Pansy grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back. 'That's not good enough, Granger,' she snarled. 'We had an agreement, and -'Hermione was getting annoyed now. 'No, we did not have an agreement! You caught me in a weak moment and I was so shocked that you were being nice to me that my brain didn't process what you were asking. That, and I felt sorry for you. So he's moved on. Get over it and move on yourself. You're being pathetic and clingy, and that's no way to win a man. Especially one like Malfoy. At least he seems to be growing up!'

She tugged her wrist out of Pansy's grip as she stood there stunned from Hermione's speech, and marched away filled with righteous indignation and no small measure of relief that the whole unpleasant episode was over and she could go back to pretending Draco Malfoy didn't exist. Oh, sure, you'll be able to do that all right, the voice sniggered following her down the hall.

Pansy however was beyond furious. How dare that filthy little Mudblood say things like that to her. That she pitied her. She, Pansy Parkinson, who would have the wizarding world at her feet when she left this draughty old castle! How dare she? Pansy actually almost turned her wand onto Granger, but common sense prevailed at the last moment, for she knew that despite her lineage and connections, the dirty little Gryffindor had more power in her little finger than Pansy had in the whole of her body, and the skill to use it. Oh, no. Her revenge would have to be something far more sneaky and deeply Slytherin than just sending hexes after Granger's retreating back.

********

Draco had enjoyed himself immensely during the prefect meeting. The only thing marring the experience for him had been the fact that Granger had seemed to totally disappear from the castle since Friday night. He had been unable speak a word to her today during any of their classes, for she had surrounded herself with Gryffindors, or even tonight, when she had ceded the floor to him and hovered in the shadows at the very back of the room, refusing to look at him.

However, he was still quite pleased with the way the prefects had responded to his new lighter demeanor. He could almost see the girls swooning, and it amused him momentarily, reminding him of how they had all reacted to Gilderoy Lockhart in 2nd year. Then he had realized that Hermione was sitting there with a very forbidding expression on her face, and he recalled taunting her nastily on several occasions about her crush on Lockhart just to get a reaction out of her, and grimaced. What a git he had been then!

He had spent the weekend in a Granger-induced high, which had hardly been dented by her continued absence. He was busy with the mechanics of his Muggle idea, and had prevailed upon Professor DiBona to begin contacting her associates in the Muggle world to obtain him the required equipment, which had kept him too busy to brood.

He had known she was running scared. Hell, he was pretty scandalized himself! But her retreat into pre-7th year behaviour tonight had managed to penetrate his fog of satisfaction; sufficiently to cause him to follow the dispersing prefects from the room in an attempt to catch her for any Head student related pretext he could conjure up on the spur of the moment.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that he was shocked to find she and Pansy, of all people, engaged in a quiet but obviously intense conversation at the far end of the corridor. He watched with narrowed eyes as Pansy grabbed Hermione's arm, and wished that he had a set of the Weasley twins' Extendable Ears, which had been placed on Filch's restricted list since the previous Christmas, so that he could hear the quietly hissed argument.

Hermione was clearly telling Pansy off from the expression on her face just before she snatched her hand out of the other girl's grip and strode away down the corridor in what Draco could only describe as a snit, and now he had to add her pious Gryffindor temper tantrums to the ever growing list of things about the Head Girl which he found cute. For the first time he began to wonder whether having Granger might turn out not to be enough for him; that he might actually want her around more permanently? He forced the thought away, unable to deal with it right now. It was too radical for him in his current frame of mind.

His eyes swung back to Pansy, and he was alarmed by the expression of intense loathing which had settled on her features. She looked for a moment as if she was intending to draw her wand on Hermione, but with an obvious internal struggle forced herself not to. Draco wondered what could have enraged her so, and resolved to keep a much closer eye on her in the future.

She seemed to be alarmingly unstable this year, what with rumours about hexes and now arguments with the Head Girl. It might not hurt to pay her a little more attention right now. One thing was sure; he couldn't allow her to hurt Granger, not when he was so confused about his own feeling for the Head Girl.

He walked towards her, making sure that his boots sounded loudly on the stone floor, and she turned to him rearranging her scowl into a delighted smile as she saw who approached her.

'Pansy,' he said smoothly, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. 'Shall we walk back to the dormitories together?'

******

Although the evening spent in Pansy's company had been productive from a strategic standpoint, when Draco returned to his private rooms near midnight he headed straight for the shower because he felt dirty and itchy from all her touching. She had taken every opportunity to stroke and pet him, as if she wanted everyone to think she was marking her territory. Draco had always thought she was a dog, anyway.

The other Slytherins had all welcomed him back so vocally to the dormitory, that he felt a small twinge of guilt for being so grateful to be out of there. The younger years who idolized their Quidditch Captain, hung around him wanting to hear about his recent capture of the Snitch in the game against Ravenclaw. (He had accomplished this by falling off his broom as he reached out too far, and somersaulting onto the pitch to land on his feet holding the little golden ball aloft). Even he admitted it had been a very stylish finish to the game, the only pity being that it wasn't Gryffindor who were their opponents.

The older witches flirted shamelessly with him, all except for Krista Reid who glared at him from the other side of the room, unhappy to be reminded both of her humiliation when she came on to him, and the fact that they had won the game without her anyway. Greg and Vince, who felt they should have the honor of first call on his attention - as did Draco himself - had to actually pick Pansy up and physically move her in the end before they could even speak to him.

Pansy did receive the highest accolade of the evening for being the person who actually managed to bring him back into the Common Room tonight, and she clung as close to his side as she could for the whole night. He was hard pressed to prevent her from following him through the portrait passage which, like Hermione's, had direct access to his single room from his house dormitory. Only by virtue of quick thinking and a graphic description of the nasty hexes and jinxes which warded the doors of the Head Student area, and would befall any student who tried to pass through and trespass into the private rooms uninvited finally dissuaded her from attempting to follow him as he finally managed to escape.

But not before she had offered to entertain him in her own dormitory with silencing charms cast around her bed hangings.

Draco had shuddered; his new found resolve to be nice to her whilst keeping an eye on her was hard pressed to refuse her graciously. His concern for keeping her away from Granger prevailed in the end and he managed to let her down tactfully, giving her the impression that was disenchanted with the school's stupid rules but that he couldn't afford to ignore them as the honour of the House rode on how well he did his job as Head Boy, for it had been years since anyone had been chosen from Slytherin to occupy those private rooms.

For the first time ever, the lying and posturing made him feel sick, and what he really wanted was just to see Granger and talk to her; just to hear her voice scolding him would make him feel better. A quick glance at the study showed it to be in darkness and no beam of light shone beneath her bedroom door, so he resigned himself to a shower before bed and another night filled with erotic dreams about the captivating and mysterious Head Girl.

He had been very careful since his meeting with Blaise not to indulge in fantasies of Granger when alone at night, but more often than not by the time he awoke in the morning his body had betrayed him. He was getting very good at cleaning spells.

Tonight as he lay alone in his enormous bed he could no longer avoid his thoughts traveling to Hermione, in her hopefully virginal room just feet away from him. His mind was still crawling from the experience of Pansy all over him, and he could only drive away the images by overlaying them with fantasies of Granger taking Pansy's place beside him and performing those same caresses to his body.

From there it was just a short step to embellishing those images with thoughts of how much further he wanted her to go, and within moments he was as hard and horny as he could ever recall being. He deliberately didn't allow his hands to touch himself, concentrating on his dream Hermione and what she was doing to him in his imagination; she was currently licking his nipples whilst one hot hand was caressing his erection and rubbing his copiously leaking pre-cum back into his rigid flesh.

He moaned out loud and the sudden noise brought him back to himself sufficiently to grab his wand from the bedside table and mumble a strong silencing spell around his bed. He was going to give himself this one night; hopefully if Pansy's little charm was programmed for masturbation, she would believe he was thinking of her as he fondled himself, given that they had so recently been together. Tonight he was going to let his imagination run wild with every lustful thought about the Head Girl that he had been suppressing for weeks, and he was wound so tight he had no idea what might come spilling out of his mouth.

That taken care of he allowed himself to drift further into his fantasies, licking suddenly dry lips as he imagined Hermione moving back up his body to cover his mouth with hers, her tongue slipping in and playing with his own. Little whimpers were escaping her now, and her fingers continued to dance over his aching cock until his hips began thrusting off the bed trying to get greater friction where he need it most. Which was the exact moment she let him go, moving back from him to watch him from the edge of the bed.

'Naughty, Draco,' she scolded him, running one hand down her chest and circling her nipples before slipping her fingers between her legs. Draco moaned and lunged for her only to find he couldn't move. His head spun round and he realized his hands were tied to the bedposts with her Gryffindor tie. She giggled and he turned back to look at her as she moved to straddle his chest, making sure that she pushed his desperate cock behind her so that he rubbed up against her buttocks but had no chance of sneakily slipping inside her. She moved against his stomach making sure he could feel how wet and ready she was, little pools of her arousal puddling in his navel.

Then the evil witch parted her swollen slippery pink flesh and showed him the hot, wet entrance to Heaven, but he couldn't reach it and instead had to watch her caressing her own engorged clit with two fingers. He was whimpering now and his penis was leaking continuously; he could feel it run down the crease of her ass and catch in the fine golden hairs on his balls. 'Do you want this, Draco?' she teased now, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and licking them clean. Draco could barely even form thoughts he was so aroused but he managed a grunt which she must have taken for agreement for she flowed up his body until she was hovering over his face and then slowly lowered herself down so that her pretty pink flesh was over his mouth. Eagerly he surged upwards, tongue coming out to lap up all the slippery juices, nose rubbing against her clit as he delved as deeply as he could get inside her body trying to drink down everything he could taste.

He remembered the scent of her from the night they had first spoken about the Halloween party, only now it was better, stronger, closer. She also wasn't as composed as she seemed. He could tell that muscles were trembling all over her body as she strained to keep upright whilst he did incredible things to her with his tongue, licking and sucking at her relentlessly driving her closer to her own orgasm. He could hear her panting gasps and saw that she was clinging on to the headboard now to prevent herself from collapsing from the tremors which were overtaking her whole body. He found his voice again, and his hands were suddenly free of the restraints. He clutched her bottom in his palms and whispered to her, 'That's it, Mina, I can tell you're so close. Give it all to me...I want to drink you down. I want to look across the classroom tomorrow in Potions and remember you like this coming apart in my mouth.'

He got his wish, her body arched backwards until her hair tickled along his naked thighs and he could feel her pussy spasming around his tongue as he enthusiastically drank down every droplet of her climax. She was sobbing and grunting but her release was too intense to allow for speech, even his name was just garbled sounds as she shuddered over him. She collapsed beside him on the bed and he watched as she slowly regained her senses, turning to look at him with sleepy eyes. 'I need you,' he whispered, and her lips curved up in a smile that took his breath away.

'I'm yours,' she replied simply, holding out her arms to him, and he rolled over and into her hot tight body in one smooth movement. Draco held himself totally still, panting with the effort not to come immediately whilst she continued to smile beneath him, pressing small kisses over his shoulders and neck until he had himself in control again. He began moving inside her so slowly at first. He wanted this to last, to stay wrapped in her heat forever, but the friction of his cock moving over her still swollen clit as he advanced and retreated was bringing her quickly to another earth shattering climax and her internal muscles clamping down on his erection began his own uncontrollable rush towards orgasm. They peaked simultaneously, Draco yelling out her name as his cock erupted again and again with what seemed like a tidal wave of cum pouring out of his body and into hers. His climax seemed to last for hours, and yet was still over too soon.

He felt as if his head had exploded so great was his release, and as his breathing finally slowed and regulated, he rolled over to capture her in his arms for the rest of the night, only to find that she wasn't there, and never had been. Somewhere along the way he had forgotten that he was just indulging an erotic fantasy and had let himself believe it was really happening, whereas the reality was that he was laying alone in his bed in a rapidly cooling lake of his own cum, and Hermione Granger was fast asleep in her own room, no doubt dreaming of her NEWTS scores.

What the fuck was happening to him?


	8. Chapter 8

Draco spent the next week furious with himself for his lapse on Monday night. Any progress he thought they had made in their discussion about cooperation the previous Friday evening seemed to have flown out of the window along with Hermione herself. They had three regular classes together, Potions, Transfiguration and Arithmancy, plus they were both also in Advanced Potions and Arithmancy electives which neither Potty nor the Weasel had achieved high enough grades to take, and certainly neither Greg nor Vince had the intellectual capacity for. Draco had hoped he might be able to corner her in either of these classes, but to no avail. She surrounded herself with 7th year Ravenclaw friends of Luna Lovegood and even Draco quailed at invading their intellectual circle.

This afternoon he had also been privy to an utterly revolting public display of affection between Hermione and the Weasel King, which admittedly he didn't think had been staged for his benefit, but the fact that it took place in broad daylight in the middle of the main entrance where anyone could see her sucking the face off the annoying red head made him sick to his stomach with something he refused to give a name to.

He retreated to the Slytherin common room unwilling to sit alone in his own study with just the company of his own thoughts and the lingering smell of herbal shampoo, which he now knew was the one Hermione used. Here it was a Saturday night and he was brooding in a armchair, with a dark scowl on his face which was so like his habitual expression of the past six years that all the other Slytherins felt as though balance had been restored in their little corner of the universe.

Only Blaise had the audacity to approach him as he sat there impersonating a black thundercloud. 'Hey, Draco,' he said, sliding into the seat opposite the Head Boy. 'I have some information for you. I don't suppose you want to do it here, so shall we meet up in the prefect's room as before?'

'What?' Draco asked, reordering his thoughts until he realised what Blaise was talking about, and as he did a satisfied smirk replaced the scowl across his features. At last. Something to think about other than Granger and her carrot-topped boyfriend. Some of the other students fidgeted nervously at the sight of that smile. Seemed like things were getting back to normal. 'Fine, thirty minutes then,' he said abruptly to Blaise, then took up his books and disappeared through the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, and this time Pansy made no attempt to follow him.

Thirty minutes later found Draco pacing the floor in the prefect's office when once again Blaise entered quietly and cast his privacy charms behind him. 'Draco,' he greeted as he subsided into a comfy chair. 'You look tense tonight. Is everything okay?'

'It's looking better,' Draco replied. 'Providing you have something good to tell me. What have you found out?' There was no point in beating about the bush. He needed to get this issue with Pansy resolved so he could get his life back to normal.

Blaise sighed. There was definitely something up with Draco this term. He had always been an arrogant git and tended to treat the other Slytherins like his personal House Elves; Blaise had seen an improvement in his temper in the 6th year after his father had been incarcerated, but his behaviour this term so far could only be described as erratic. He swung from uncharacteristic jovial good humour to biting sarcasm, yet he constantly seemed distracted as if he couldn't concentrate fully on anything.

Previously, he would have found this situation with Pansy amusing in a cruel way. In fact it would have been more like him to go to her directly and demand the truth of the rumours, and then deliberately sleep with as many girls as he could, just to annoy her and emphasize that he could not be owned. The fact that he was concerned about Pansy finding out anything concerning his love life led Blaise to suspect that finally there was someone Draco was actually serious about, and that he was going out of his way to protect her. It would certainly go some way to explaining Draco's strange behaviour recently.

Of course, Blaise would never suggest this to Draco, firstly because he doubted Draco had even realised it himself; but secondly and Blaise thought most compellingly, he rather liked his head where it was - attached to his shoulders, and he had no intentions of giving the Head Boy a reason to hex it were elsewhere. Blaise was a compulsive people watcher, and he was convinced. He didn't know who yet, but he was sure if he paid sufficient attention in the next few weeks he would stumble upon her.

Not that he had any intention of using his knowledge against Draco. With Malfoy Sr. out of the way, this year's Head Boy was one of the most powerful people in the wizarding world, and Blaise couldn't believe how many of his schoolmates were oblivious to the significance of this fact.

Which was why he was keenly interested in the direction Draco was moving this year. To Blaise's analytical eye, it seemed that he was definitely moving away from his father's allegiances, and he knew if Draco ever came out and openly declared for one side or the other, the rest of Slytherin would fall in line behind him. Blaise himself had no allegiances to anyone; he valued his comfort and freedom, and his side was whichever one offered him these things at any one time.

This investigation into Pansy Parkinson was one of the most enjoyable that Blaise had ever undertaken. He rarely bothered with girls, or boys either come to that. He was usually too concerned with over-analyzing everyone else's behaviour to spend time in the normal pursuits of hormonal teenage boys. So this had offered him a glimpse into a new lifestyle.

He had chosen to approach Pansy sideways, by letting her circle of hangers-on introduce the idea of him. He wasn't particularly vain or concerned with his appearance, but he knew girls found his exotic dark looks quite attractive, and he was sure he would have no trouble getting Pansy's interest if she thought for but a second that he was interested in her.

He made sure to pay a compliment to Pansy in Millicent Bulstrode's hearing, and then expressed his admiration for her skill in Charms whilst Mary Beene was listening. After several outrageous examples of flattery, which he knew had reached Pansy's ears by virtue of the interested glances she was casting his way whenever she thought he wasn't looking, he made a complete about face.

Having hooked his fish, he moved to stage two, which consisted of wondering out loud if he had been correct previously in his assessment of Pansy's skills, and he knew immediately when these whispers reached her as she cast resentful glares which, unlike the coy come-hither glances she made no attempt to hide, in his direction.

Pansy was like an open book. She was so easy to manipulate, yet she still thought she was so cunning. If she ever caught someone like Draco, Blaise thought, she would have no clue what to do with him. And Draco would probably strangle her within a week.

Blaise was sitting alone as was his custom, when Pansy approached him. She had obviously rehearsed what she was going to say to him, and Blaise briefly considered flustering her by throwing out a few random comments to distract her from her carefully planned speech, but in the end curiosity won out, and he obliged by letting her complete her practiced monologue which turned out to consist of alternating complaints, false flattery and disbelief. Blaise began to wonder how she had ever reached 7th year, and what on earth Draco had seen in her - even as brief as their liaison had been.

Draco was one of the few people Blaise actually liked and respected. He could see even if no one else could what a careful line Draco had to walk between living up to his old and respected name, and losing his own individuality under the force of so much pressure from his father.

Pansy however, turned out to be just as shallow on the inside as she appeared on the surface. Even rehearsed, her speech to him was disjointed and incoherent, but Blaise managed to gather from it that she had been encouraged by his earlier flattery of her, and that she had also admired him from a distance, but his later doubts about her ability in Charms (a class which luckily they both shared) had hurt her feelings, and she wanted a chance to redeem herself; to show him just how good she really was at charming things.

Blaise knew this was a total fabrication. She had never in six years shown any kind of interest in him until he seemed to be interested in her. He even wondered if she might be thinking of using him to make Draco jealous. If so, it would be the most delicious of all ironies, and he was going to encourage her until she was in too deep to escape from her own foolishness. They spoke on several more occasions in the common room, and she was soon sitting with him during Charms, trying to impress him with her skills.

By the time Draco was sitting in his study with Hermione last Friday evening, mistakenly thinking he had managed to move past 5 years of cruelty, Blaise had reeled Pansy expertly into his trap. Friday, he allowed her a climax with the skill of his fingers, testing the waters so to speak, by asking some leading questions whilst she was in the grip of her pleasure. In the aftermath she was too c0nfused and drained to remember what she had said, and Blaise planned his next move, which had taken place a week later. Just last night, in fact.

He had been distant and cooler towards Pansy for a week, but staying closely within hearing range, until he heard her complaining to Millicent about putting a hex on guys who used you once and dropped you. Blaise had hit the jackpot. Millie giggled and said to Pansy, 'Soon you'll have hexes on every Slytherin in the 7th year. What are you doing about Draco's?'

Pansy had scowled and replied, 'Nothing. It hasn't gone off yet, but I'm sure I did it right. I just can't believe he hasn't shagged anyone yet this year. It's not like him to be so restrained.'

From his place of concealment, Blaise was hurriedly plotting his next move. Time to allow Pansy what she needed; a proper sexual encounter conducted with the judicious use of a little truth serum and a mild memory charm. (Blaise as it happened, was very good at Charms) and she would never know she had spilled her guts to him.

And oddly enough, after he had taken advantage of Pansy's silliness, Blaise found himself feeling a kind of frustrated affection for her. No matter how hard she tried, she would never have the mental capacity or cunning to keep up with Draco (or himself, for that matter). She didn't have the looks to get by without the other attributes, and he felt a certain sympathy for her and the warped way she was trying to be proactive about her choices, and he thought he might keep her around a bit, until he moved on to the next project.

Which brought him to the prefect's office tonight, ready to fill Draco in on the nature of what Pansy had devised. He felt he knew her well enough by now to say with confidence that she would not dismantle the charm even though she was involved in a fling with Blaise himself. In this respect she was his equal; she had her eye to the main chance, and there was no denying of the two of them, Draco was certainly the better prospect. Blaise was from an old and respected wizarding family, but financially challenged, and he had two younger siblings also.

Of course, there were few who could rival the Malfoys in that respect. Even though Lucius was serving a life sentence in Azkaban, given what Draco was thought to be worth now it was unlikely that he would see a moments' peace from the matchmaking mothers, the wizarding paparazzi and young (and even the not-so-young) fortune hunting witches, from the moment he graduated the warded grounds of Hogwarts until he chose a wife and set up his own nursery. Blaise could hardly blame Pansy for trying to stake her claim early. It was a shame she couldn't see what an utter waste of her efforts it was.

'Blaise?' Draco prompted. 'You wanted this meeting. Do you have anything for me?' and Blaise shook himself out of his contemplation, grinning at the other man.

'I'm sorry. I was just considering the acquisition of knowledge for a moment there.'

Draco actually managed to smile back at him. Blaise had been staring off into space for a good five minutes with a peculiar smirk on his face, and Draco appreciated the fact that he had had fun with this task. 'Do I want to know what you had to do to acquire this particular knowledge?' he asked jokingly.

'I am sure a man of your - ah - talents, can come up with the answer to that question on his own,' Blaise replied modestly. 'Besides, I never kiss and tell - unless there's profit in it!' They exchanged a smile of pure Slytherin supremacy, and Blaise got down to the matter in hand. 'Well, this is how it stands currently,' he began. 'Pansy apparently found out about your dalliance with Miss Giraud towards the end of last year - incidentally, she is now no longer employed at Fidenster's Apothecary. Apparently the Parkinson name carries some influence with Mr Fidenster, and she has been transferred to a store in Diagon Alley.'

Draco scowled at this information, and was infuriated that he had made no effort to contact Isabel since last June when school broke up for the summer. Admittedly, they had made each other no promises, and theirs had been a casual relationship based on sex; Isabel had been three years older than he and quite capable of taking care of herself, but he was appalled that she had lost her job because of Pansy's jealousy, and guilty because he hadn't known. Of course, Isabel could have contacted him had she wanted, and he could only conclude that she did not realise her change in employment was in any way related to her relationship with him, or that she was sufficiently disinterested that she didn't care to give a forwarding address. It was at the same time insulting and a relief.

Blaise, who was carefully studying Draco's face, decided that this piece of information had more effectively condemned Pansy in his eyes than any amount of hexes she may have cast. Draco absolutely would not be manipulated by a woman. Blaise wondered briefly what form his retribution on Pansy would take, and resolved to cut her loose before any backlash could rebound on himself.

He continued with his background analysis. 'Well, it appears she spent the summer reading up on several texts regarding love potions. We can only thank Merlin that she realised she lacks the skill to create and administer one of those! She seems to have turned to Charms as a secondary and less potentially dangerous manner of binding you to her. Pansy is not actually unskilled in Charms, but she never applies herself completely. You know her career of choice is to become the next Mrs Malfoy, and she doesn't seem to see the need for any alternate qualifications to fall back on, so she doesn't take academics very seriously. But this has proved that she does have some aptitude if she is sufficiently invested in the result.' He paused and checked for Draco's reaction; he looked interested but not surprised.

'Well, it appears she found an old copy of Happy Handfasting; A guide to stopping your wizard from straying at her grandparents house. You will recall that Benton Parkinson was once a very skilled wizard before his unfortunate - accident?' Draco nodded to confirm that yes, he did know this.

'She found a nice little spell for creating an alert when the - ah- subject of it's focus performs a sexual act with anyone other than the caster. So, it is actually only the sexual act itself, not jerking off which will operate the alarm. It's actually quite a clever little charm; she was very lucky to find it. Of course, the preparation required some ingredients which I don't even want to think about how she obtained. The most significant being samples of both yours and her come, which will bind the spell to recognise whenever yours combines in relation to anyone with a different chemical make up to hers. If, as you say, you haven't slept with her for a considerable while -' Draco nodded his affirmation with a grimace of disgust on his face, 'Then she must have some very dirty laundry in her dormitory somewhere!'

'So what form of a warning does this alarm perform?' Draco asked. 'It can't reveal identities, can it?'

'No, that would be impossible given the component ingredients. It's charmed to both of your individual DNA signatures. All it's going to do is cause a volatile reaction of the actual alarm itself -'

'DNA?' Draco asked.

'Muggle term,' Blaise dismissed with a wave of his hand. 'Very interesting stuff; we don't have a term which encompasses the same concept. Fascinating, some of the stuff these Muggles manage without magic. Strangely, I am finding this Muggle Studies course fascinating -' He caught Draco's ironic look. 'But I'm getting distracted. The form of the vessel to alert the caster can take many shapes; I think you'll be quite amused to hear that Pansy's is in the image of a volcano. She has it in pride of place on her dresser in the girls dormitory. All of the other girls know what it is. When - if - it goes off it will blow clouds of purple smoke out of the top. I thought the image was quite phallic myself; I was hard put not to laugh when she explained it. Of course, I later obliviated that conversation from her head. Don't want her suspecting I might have told someone about it.'

'I take it that it's a one-way alarm,' Draco said dryly, and for a moment Blaise could not work out what he meant by that comment, or why he was smirking. When he did, he broke into genuine laughter.

'Oh, definitely,' he agreed through his mirth. 'Wouldn't do for her to be caught in the act now, would it?'

'Apparently not,' Draco agreed dead pan, and they both broke into gales of laughter. 'So,' he continued when he had his breath back, 'No unpleasant physical manifestations to go along with this hex then? My dick isn't going to turn green and drop off?' he questioned quoting the She-Weasel's delicate hypothesis.

Blaise gave him a strange look. 'Is that what you were worried about?' he asked. 'No, absolutely not. It is really just an alarm. Of course, I wouldn't guarantee that Pansy won't go straight for your dick with her wand or even a sharp knife, if you let it go off!'

'You've done splendidly, Blaise,' Draco said with what Blaise could only call an evil smile. 'I'm not wrong in thinking you had fun?'

They gave each other looks of Slytherin solidarity and Draco winked at him. He knew he should be discussing payment with Blaise, but all he could think about was that he could go back to his rooms and indulge in every torrid fantasy about the Head Girl that he could imagine, and he could imagine plenty. He conveniently forgot that he had been furious with himself for just such a lapse at the beginning of the evening.


	9. Chapter 9

Muggle Studies had been made compulsory for Purebloods by Dumbledore at the start of his 6th Year, and despite himself, Draco had become fascinated with the ingenuity of Muggles in finding ways to compensate for their lack of magic. He hid it well, but this had become one of his favourite classes. The teacher Professor DiBona, was a halfblood who had a magical mother and Muggle father, but had selected to live in the Muggle world prior to her appointment. Dumbledore had chosen her well, for she was charismatic and had achieved the seemingly impossible task of making the subject appealing to majority of the Purebloods.

The course followed no set curriculum as there were no exams at the end, as it was intended to be an enrichment class. Professor DiBona conducted lessons by introducing a Muggle item or concept, and letting the student's questions lead on from there.

Even though there were some she would never be able to reach out to, despite the complaints he made to the rest of the Slytherin students, Draco was not one of them. This term, Professor DiBona had started talking to Draco's class about the Space Program, and it had fascinated Draco to think that Muggles with all the restrictions placed upon them with their lack of magical ability, could achieve such a feat. To wizarding society, the Heavens were for reading through astronomy, for predicting the future. But Muggles weren't content to look. They wanted to go there, to touch it, to feel it, to make it real. This was tangible, and he was hooked.

He had stayed to talk with professor DiBona after the first class on the topic and she had made mention of a place called Hollywood, which was apparently a Muggle community that transformed Muggle books into moving pictures similar to wizarding photographs, and which had libraries full of motion pictures about space travel, both fact and fiction. With her help, Draco had obtained a dvd player and charmed it to work in his bedroom. It was his first 125% assignment of the year. It was also one of the secret pleasures which had distracted him from the Slytherin dormitories this year.

Professor DiBona had mentioned a number of films in the genre, but Draco had been drawn to an older movie called Star Wars. Professor DiBona had impressed upon him that it was absolute fantasy, but it showed the ingenuity of the Muggle imagination. If such a thing could be conceived, surely the next step was execution? Draco thought it was a perfect theme for the Feast; action, adventure, Good against Evil, and a glancing hint of romance if you dug deep enough. Since the Head Girl had tacitly agreed to his suggestion and then ignored him, he had spent the remainder of the weekend working hard with the Professor to discover if projection of the movie was possible so that it could be watched whilst the Ball was in progress by those who wished to do so.

He also couldn't resist the thought of Granger in that slinky white dress, although he wasn't sure she could ever tame her hair into the unusual coiled hairdo that the Princess wore throughout the movie, but he teased himself with the thought that it would leave her neck accessible for kissing and nibbling, although it was unlikely that Draco Malfoy would be allowed near enough to her to do so. No, that would be Weasley's prerogative.

During the next prefect meeting Draco brought the dvd player from his room to the Prefect Office and played the film for the group. The Muggle born students appreciated the chance to see it again, and the purebloods who had mostly not encountered such a thing, were grudgingly impressed.

Hermione wasn't sure how Draco had obtained a copy of the movie, or the means by which to play it; however, since she was still practicing avoidance , she refused to ask. She supposed if you had enough money to throw at a task, anything was possible. She tried to limit their contact to classes they shared and the twice weekly prefect meetings which were necessary to coordinate such a large project as Draco had proposed.

She was careful to always let Draco lead these meetings. And although the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw prefects gave her some odd looks as they were unused to her holding back in a public forum, no one actually said anything to her about her reticence.

**************

And so the Prefect Meeting on the Monday before the Feast soon rolled around. They were going over the final details of their assignments, and the Hufflepuff girls who had been put in charge of transfiguring a set of their spare robes into costumes for each of the characters in the movie were handing out their finished work. Hermione accepted the silky white dress from Hannah Abbott (who was trying very hard not to giggle at the thought of the Head Girl dressed in such a thing) and thanked her lucky stars that Draco had apparently not seen the third movie because there was no way in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds that she would have appeared in that gold metal bikini. She would have rather been a Wookie!

The Hufflepuff's job was mostly over, and the others would begin Saturday morning with the transformation of the Great Hall into the set of the movie. Professor Dumbledore had requested that Draco and Hermione report to him after this meeting to give him an overview of their progress and to receive a roster for the teachers who would be chaperoning, so that they could assign the prefects to assist as necessary.

Needless to say, Hermione was not looking forward to the meeting; she had maneuvered Ron into walking her to Dumbledore's office, but she had been unable to come up with a plan for avoiding the Head Boy after the Headmaster dismissed them.

As the prefects began pushing their chairs back, Hermione caught Ron's hand and they exited the room before any of the others and began making their way over to Professor Dumbledore's office. When they reached the gargoyle, Ron stopped and pulled Hermione into a hug. 'Don't let the evil git get to you Mione.' He whispered in her ear. 'He won't try anything in front of Dumbledore, anyway. I'll see you later. Harry called a practice for after the meeting, so I better run.'

Hermione didn't want to tell him that Draco had actually behaved quite politely so far this year, because that was half the problem. In fact, she didn't even want to admit it to herself, but she felt a guilty twinge at the omission and justified it by telling herself that Ron wouldn't have believed her anyway.

She sighed as he tilted her chin up and gave her a gentle but thorough kiss on her mouth. She was sure he took the sound as a sigh of pleasure - arousal even - but her brain was busily processing her need to avoid the Head Boy and her guilt at using Ron's obvious affection for her as an emotional crutch for her own inadequacies.

Ron backed away squeezing her fingers as he left, but annoyed with her own vacillating emotions she still didn't immediately give the password to Dumbledore's rooms and suddenly she felt Draco's presence behind her, 'What's the matter, Granger?' he taunted. 'The Weasel get you so flustered you can't remember the password? Smarties,' he hissed, pushing past her as the staircase was revealed, and Hermione thought he deliberately knocked against her to unbalance her so that she instinctively grabbed for his arm rather than ending up on the ground.

Draco had been a witness to yet another affectionate moment between them and his temper had risen in relation to the nasty clenching in his stomach as he watched Weasley snogging the girl he wanted, and unable to act on his desires he had lashed out at the one responsible for his inner turmoil.

They both froze momentarily and looked at her hand as it clutched his arm though the dark wool of his school robes. Then Draco shook himself free and marched up to Dumbledore's office leaving Hermione to trail behind, fuming at herself for being too tongue tied to produce a scathing retort.

Professor Dumbledore was awaiting them when the stairs deposited them at the entrance to his office. 'Ah, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger,' he greeted happily. 'Do come in, sit down, sit down,' he waved at a compact blue sofa in front of his desk which Hermione was sure had never been there before during any of her visits to the Headmaster's office. It looked awfully small and cosy to accommodate a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who didn't like each other much.

'Sit, sit,' Dumbledore encouraged waving again towards the sofa, obviously thinking that they either hadn't heard his first invitation, or weren't moving fast enough. Hermione sighed deciding she would have to be the adult and stepped forward, only to find that Draco was patiently waiting for her to seat herself first, like a gentleman. She positioned herself into a corner as close to the arm as she could get and held herself stiffly when Draco subsided next to her, adopting a typical male sprawl which brought his thigh dangerously close to touching hers.

Dumbledore took his position on the other side of the desk and steepled his fingers together as he studied them over the rim of his glasses. Hermione got the distinct impression that he was scheming. It was a look she had seen too often on Ron and Harry's faces just before they got into some spectacular trouble. But the Headmaster was so much older and so much more powerful that she became quite worried as to what he could have in mind.

'So, tell me, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy,' he began. 'How is the year going for you both? I haven't had the chance to speak to you since the beginning of term. Of course, I would like to hear about the Halloween party, although Professor DiBona has certainly given me some hints, and it sounds very exciting -' Hermione shot Draco a curious glance at this, surprised that he would have involved the Muggle Studies teacher in his preparations, but realizing how sensible it was. Perhaps she had been misjudging his common sense after all. 'But first,' Dumbledore continued blithely, 'I want to know how you two are getting along together this year. I hope that certain - tensions - from previous years are not affecting your ability to work effectively as a team?'

Hermione was still studying Draco as he turned to stare at her following the Headmaster's words, with a strange expression on his face. Hermione gulped and looked back at Dumbledore, who had obviously caught the furtive glances and was twinkling suspiciously. 'Of course,' he added, 'You will realise that there was some consternation at the choice of the two of you for these positions this year,' Hermione frowned; she was not used to the idea of causing consternation for her teachers, 'but I felt that you would both be sufficiently mature to put the good of the school before your own differences. I am thinking that so far I have been correct? The complexity of your Halloween choice certainly seems to show an excellent spirit of cooperation!' and they both mumbled an affirmative.

'Excellent, excellent. So, let's move on to Halloween. Of course, as usual we will begin the feast at 6.30 to be followed by dancing, and I believe some kind of moving picture show! Miss Granger, here are the schedules for the adult chaperones. One for yourself and one for Mr Malfoy.'

Hermione rose and accepted the lists from Professor Dumbledore, passing Draco his before she sat down again, and she was suddenly aware that the sofa had shrunk since she stood up. She almost seemed to be rolling towards Draco now, her shoulder brushing his, but it had to be an illusion for Draco looked totally undisturbed, an expression she was sure he wouldn't be able to maintain if the furniture had independently started resizing itself whilst her back was turned.

'Well, Professor,' Draco began, for it seemed to be obvious to him that Hermione had given him charge of this project. He outlined their plans and Dumbledore responded enthusiastically as they had known he would. He was impressed with the charms Draco was using to make the dvd player work, and although Hermione had known what he planned, she had never heard him describe the mechanics of how he intended to achieve it. She tried not to look too impressed, he would surely never let her forget it if he thought she admired something he had done.

'Very good, Draco,' Dumbledore said admiringly as he concluded his presentation. 'I am glad that you chose a Muggle theme; it convinces me that I chose this year's Head Students well!'

Draco grinned at Hermione as he dropped back onto the sofa beside her and there was no doubt in her mind now that it had definitely shrunk. She could feel the heat of his body radiating next to her, and the sight of his face wearing a genuine smile instead of the usual supercilious smirk took her breath away. There was a nervous twisting in her stomach which always happened in the presence of the Head Boy these days.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Hermione suddenly realised that they had been sitting staring at each other for Merlin knew how long. She twisted her hands together and fought desperately not to blush; she was already far too overheated from just sitting there so close to him, without giving Dumbledore the impression that something else was going on.

She looked back towards the Headmaster and caught a very thoughtful expression on his face which disappeared as soon as he realized she was watching him. 'Of course,' he said cheerfully, 'Considering all the splendid attention to detail your team has put into this occasion, I think that it would be most effective if you attend together.' The way he asked made it quite clear to Hermione that this was in fact an order and not a polite request.

Her first reaction was to panic, which was closely followed by shame that disappointment for Ron had not been her first reaction. This was to have been their first chance to attend a formal occasion together, and she knew Ron had been looking forward to showing off the Head Girl. It was kind of endearing; he had always had so much to follow, what with his older brothers and then Harry overshadowing him at every turn, and Hermione's growing guilt over her unacceptable obsession with Malfoy had seen her determined to make this dance special for him.

Now Dumbledore was just steamrollering over her plans with one of his own peculiar schemes. Her guilt gave her the courage to challenge the Headmaster. 'But Professor,' she said unhappily. 'I've already got a date, and I'm sure Malfoy has someone else in mind as his partner....'

'Nonsense, my dear,' Dumbledore twinkled. 'It's only one night and I'm sure Mr Weasley can spare you. There'll be plenty of time for you to have a dance or two with him, but I need to show the school that we are making great strides towards inter-house unity, and what better example could there be than our dear Head Students; old foes from rival houses setting aside their differences to become an example for all of us. I think you might as well tell all the other prefects to pair up too - out of their houses, of course.'

Dumbledore stood, and they were both clear that this meant the subject was closed and their instructions given.

'Of course, if that is what you wish,' Hermione said stiffly. 'Goodnight, Sir.' She strode out of the office and down the stairs as fast as she could without making it look like she was stomping off in a huff. She was positive that Draco was enjoying her discomfort, if not the actual situation; he was following close behind her and she just knew that some snarky, sarcastic comment would be forthcoming the second they were out of the Headmaster's earshot.

Sure enough, it came as the stone gargoyle revolved shut behind them. Draco leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and watched her stormy face from under his long silky lashes - Damn it, Hermione, stop that!

'Well, Granger,' he drawled. 'Looks like we have a hot date for Saturday night, then -'

'Shut up, Malfoy!' she hissed. Pushed beyond all endurance by Dumbledore's scheming and her own disloyalty she lashed out at the person responsible. 'This is so not a date. It's an imperial command from an elderly power-happy wizard whom I am beginning to think has totally lost his marbles!' Draco looked momentarily confused not understanding the Muggle phrase but Hermione, on a roll now, kept on venting. 'Ron was really excited - this was supposed to be our first real date, and now I have to tell him that I've got to go with you! You of all people; the incredible bouncing ferret! It'll kill him. Oh, I can't even bear to think about this now! I have things to do!'

She spun on her heel and stomped away, leaving Draco leaning against the wall. Admittedly, he had deliberately provoked her, but he had found out to his own sick horror that Hermione Granger was even cuter when she was mad at him. When she yelled at him her eyes flashed with golden sparks, and the way she kept drawing deep calming breaths as if trying to restrain herself from hexing him made her chest heave thrusting her breasts tightly against her white school shirt, and totally distracted him from her insults.

However, he really seemed to have pushed her too far this time, and had gotten more than he bargained for. This was a genuinely upset Hermione; her words about Ron Weasley made his stomach tighten in an uncomfortable way, and all the pleasure which had rushed over him when Professor Dumbledore made his decree evaporated like mist, leaving him feeling confused and ready to snap at someone. He pushed himself away from the wall and stormed off down the corridors to find a victim. There must be some Hufflepuffs out after curfew somewhere in a castle this big.


	10. Chapter 10

Dumbledore watched his Head Students disappear down the staircase with a pleased smile on his face. He was quite sure there would be fireworks as soon as they thought they were out of earshot of his office. Miss Granger had only barely managed to restrain herself from shouting at him, and he was sure that Mr Malfoy would shortly receive the brunt of her displeasure.

He however, had some more meddling to achieve tonight, so he moved to his fireplace and flooed both Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, asking them to come to his office immediately. Minerva emerged momentarily and took a seat in one of the newly restored armchairs in front of the Headmaster's desk which Hermione had been searching for earlier.

Severus Snape appeared some minutes later, looking irritated, which was nothing new, but also looking disheveled - which was.

'Ah, Severus,' Dumbledore said. 'Here you are,' and Minerva smothered a snigger. The Headmaster had obviously also noticed his minor disarray.

'Yes, yes, here I am.' Severus agreed. 'However, I was in the middle of brewing a very sensitive healing potion, and I am reaching a critical stage. I cannot leave it for too long or it will go off the boil.'

'Of course, my dear boy, and I won't keep you long. I just have a request to make of both of you, being as our Head Students are in your respective houses.'

Severus narrowed his eyes fractionally at this information, and Minerva looked more concerned than she had previously. 'Nothing is wrong with Miss Granger, I hope Albus?' she asked. 'I know I had my reservations about Mr Malfoy's appointment -' Severus snorted at this, for Minerva's complaints had been loud and lengthy, and he would hardly have called them reservations. 'But,' she continued with a repressive scowl at the Head of Slytherin, 'I have to confess to being pleasantly surprised by Mr Malfoy's conduct so far this year.' Severus could almost hear a silent and childish so there, tacked on the end of her sentence.

'No, no,' Dumbledore said, beaming. 'Quite the opposite, actually. I think you will both be very pleasantly surprised by the event they have organized for this weekend. Very detailed work, quite spectacular. And a Muggle theme!'

Severus, who had been close to wearing a smug expression, almost choked at this news, and looked at the Headmaster in shock. ' Draco went along with this?' he exclaimed.

'Well, actually, if my interpretation is correct, I think it may even have been his idea,' Dumbledore replied placidly.

'I see,' Minerva said thinking quickly. She was generally but a short step behind Albus' train of thought. 'We don't want to let the momentum slow down, do we?'

'Exactly, my dear,' Dumbledore said delighted. 'Exactly my thoughts. At long last, Mr Malfoy is showing us some independent thinking. This behaviour is in no way influenced by his father. I had hoped through all of last year that maybe we hadn't lost our chance with him, and I am glad to see that the improvement has continued this term. This is exactly what I had hoped for by nominating him for Head Boy. I do realise that many of those involved had argued strongly the case for Mr Goldstein of Ravenclaw, but I really think I was not mistaken in supporting Mr Malfoy -'

'Of course you weren't,' Severus interrupted. He had been elated by the suggestion of Draco for Head Boy; both he and Dumbledore had speculated in great depth over the Summer break as to the possibility of bringing the younger Malfoy over to their side. They had plotted to turn Draco away from his father's path by showing him what benefits the alternatives offered. Severus' only reservation had been in the person of the Head Girl. He had felt that the years-long enmity between the two would overshadow any progress they made with Draco's reconditioning. 'If indeed they have managed to work together, then no one is more pleased than I,' he finished, although his tone clearly expressed his doubts.

'Which is why I needed to ask you here tonight.,' Dumbledore continued, 'Now we have seen some actual cooperation between them, I want to encourage it to continue,' his Head of Houses gave him confused looks. Minerva, although she had the same objective didn't seem sure what he was proposing, and Severus appeared anxious to get back to his potion. Albus looked surprised that neither of them had grasped his drift. 'Ah, well,' he sighed to himself. 'Sometimes it is very hard to be an intellectual giant. I need you to aggressively encourage this spirit of inter-house cooperation in our Head Students. We must proceed proactively. From now on you are to assign Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger as working partners whenever an assignment calls for it.'

'What -' Minerva began, only to be overridden by Severus much louder expression of disbelief. 'You cannot be serious, Headmaster!' He exclaimed. 'That is a recipe for disaster! Just because they have managed to arrange one event with the help of 24 other students does not mean that they can suddenly function as a team if you put them into each other's pockets continuously. Merlin, are you assuming on the strength of one meeting that 6 years of animosity has suddenly dissolved and they have become friends?'

Minerva cleared her throat and fixed Severus with a glare. She did not appreciate the interruption even though he had expressed very similar concerns to her own. 'Although I may not have put it quite so - forcefully - Albus, I can't help but agree with Severus, ' She said. 'Despite their cooperation on this matter, it has been a joint effort with all the other prefects, conducted through the means of structured meetings in the presence of representatives from each house. In my position as Head of Gryffindor, I have to tell you that Miss Granger does not spend any of her free time in the Head Student suite of rooms. She still studies and socializes in the Gryffindor Tower or the library, and according to my observations only returns to her private room to actually sleep. She is certainly not bonding with Mr Malfoy over a warm fireplace in the Common Room!'

'My own observations would tend to agree with that,' Severus offered stiffly. 'It does seem that Draco has come to regard the Head suite as his own where there has been no need to share it since term began.'

Dumbledore merely smiled at their objections, knowing they would adhere to his wishes despite their reservations. It was a shame neither of them could have been present during his recent meeting, for he thought they might have regarded the matter with less skepticism if they had been. Many years of mentoring hormonal teenagers had honed Dumbledore's eye to the sharpness of a hawk, and the air around the Head Students positively crackled with sexual tension; however he doubted they would ever do anything about it due again to the traditional House rivalry and ingrained prejudices, unless someone pushed. Dumbledore liked to push, and besides he was a terrible old romantic.

The same outdated rivalries and objections were obviously skewing Minerva and Severus' view of the situation. So it fell upon himself to direct them. Mr Weasley might no doubt suffer for a while, but the affections of some other pretty little witch would soon soothe his bruised heart. In Dumbledore's opinion, that was not an ideal match for either of them, whereas he thought that Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy might possibly prove to be one of the greatest wizarding unions of all time. If Mr Malfoy could be turned aside from the direction his father had pointed him.

Severus conceded first - probably due to the potion simmering in his chambers. 'Fine, Albus, if that is what you want me to do, then consider them partners from now onwards. I do wish to register my disagreement, though. I think this is a mistake which will cause nothing but trouble.'

'Absolutely, Severus. Your concerns are duly noted, but I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at the results. Goodnight then.'

Severus stepped into the fireplace and disappeared. Minerva turned to the Headmaster. 'Are you quite sure about this, Albus?' she asked, and he nodded coming around the desk to pat her gently on the shoulder as she still sat in her chair.

'I am, my dear. I think this will be the best thing for all of us. You should see for yourself quite soon; just keep a close eye on them both, and you will understand. Now, how about a small nightcap?'

'Well, I do hope so,' she sighed. 'And what on earth was the matter with Severus tonight?'

'Ah, well - as to that, I suspect that maybe Severus has a visitor and I interrupted his entertaining by requesting his presence here,' the Headmaster replied with a particularly bright twinkle.

'No!' Minerva exclaimed, surprised. 'Really? Severus - you don't say - ? You mean - a woman - ? Who do you think -?'

'Well, I am sure I have absolutely no idea about that!' Dumbledore replied grinning widely, which meant of course that he knew exactly, but wasn't sharing. 'And I really don't think I should go looking, do you?'

********************

Severus Snape marched out of his fireplace and closed the Floo access. He took a cursory glance at the pale golden potion simmering slowly in the large black cauldron. It was a cure for menstrual cramps, essential in a castle where fifty percent of the population was hormonal teenage girls. Poppy Pomfrey dispensed it daily, and he brewed it regularly to keep up with the demand. He barely even needed to look at it these days. He could have created it in his sleep.

He continued though to his bedroom, tossing his robes onto a chair as he passed revealing that he had been in his underwear and little else beneath them.

'So, what was all that about then?' asked the witch in his bed stretching lazily. 'I was just getting ready to go back to London.'

Severus growled. 'Albus, on another one of his Slytherin-Gryffindor house unity rampages. He wants me to pair off Draco Malfoy with Miss Granger in all future potions assignments. Some crackpot idea of the Head Students setting an example for the whole school. The old man is losing his grip, I swear!'

'Oh, really? That doesn't seem to be such a crazy idea. I was under the impression that Draco's behaviour had matured since his father was imprisoned?' she replied, tilting her head and looking more interested in the idea than Severus felt she should be at the moment.

'Well, yes,' he agreed grudgingly, as if it pained him to admit there might be some point to Albus' insanity. 'But it's a very delicate line to walk between bringing him over and pushing him right into the Dark Lord's arms, and I think that bossy little smart-mouthed Gryffindor might just be the straw that breaks the camel's back! There's too much bad blood between the two of them. Not to mention the influence that the Potter boy and young Weasley have on Miss Granger's outlook. In spite of her animosity, I do believe - and you cannot imagine how it pains me to admit this - that Miss Granger might rise above her feelings for the good of the school if it was only down to her. But I have never seen two students hate each other the way Mr Weasley and Malfoy do; and she appears to be dating Mr Weasley this year.'

'Really? Well, he's been panting at her heels for long enough - but that's a doomed relationship if I ever saw one,' she said with certainty.

'It is?' Severus looked interested despite himself.

'Well, of course,' she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it might have been had Severus been female, but the one thing that Severus Snape had never been able to comprehend in the length and depth of all of his intrigues was the working of the female mind in regards to romance. 'They have nothing in common at all except for this fight. Remove the life threatening situations and you have an academic and an athlete. Now that's a recipe for disaster. Also, they're too close for a romance - more like siblings really. Malfoy is actually a much better proposition if you reduce it to its lowest common denominator. He is her academic equal; she will never leave him floundering intellectually. He is just as confident, charismatic and popular as she is -'

'Do you mean to suggest, madam,' Snape interrupted in the voice that generations of Potions students recognised as his points-deducting tone, 'That you think Albus Dumbledore is - matchmaking?'

However, instead of quaking with the appropriate degree of terror, his guest giggled and uncurled herself from her seat which, since she was currently lounging in his bed under a sheet, left her quite naked in front of him. 'Of course he is, and rather blatantly at that!' she replied causing Severus' menacing scowl to darken even further. 'Oh, come on, Sevvie,' she purred suggestively. 'You never managed to intimidate me in seven years of school. What makes you think you can manage it now that I'm an adult?'

'I've told you time and time again not to call me Sevvie,' he growled, stalking over to the bed, lured by the sight of her little pink nipples beckoning him.

'Ah, Sevvie, don't be a bear,' she pouted, and grabbed his wrist as he came within range, pulling him down on top of her. 'Why don't you show me how good your inter-house relations are, instead?'


	11. Chapter 11

Ron had behaved predictably when Hermione told him about Dumbledore's latest decree.

The movie had been played for the prefects at the meeting following Draco's gaining their approval of the theme, and most of them had chosen their costumes that night. All except for the Head Boy and Girl; they had been nominated and voted into their characters after the screening by the other prefects. The girls had unanimously voted for Hermione to be the Princess, except for Pansy who had obviously wanted that honour herself, and had snorted quite loudly and disbelievingly when Hermione tried to decline.

They had soon realised that in actuality there were very few female parts in the movie, so the Hufflepuff girls who were in put in charge of costumes elected to invent their own alien costumes. Even Pansy had finally settled down when Justin Finch-Fletchley asked if he could be Luke Skywalker and was approved.

Hermione had decided that out of the twenty four prefects from the 5th, 6th and 7th years of all four houses, only she and Draco and possibly a couple of the Ravenclaws had ever actually seen the movie before. Well, that had to be a good thing, didn't it?

When she came looking for Ron to break the bad news to him, she found him pacing the Gryffindor common room in a Darth Vadar cloak and head mask, waving his light saber around, leering at some fourth year girls, and hissing 'May the force be with you!' in a sibilant voice created by a larynx charm.

Hermione smiled affectionately at his antics; it would never have occurred to him to keep his costume a secret until the night of the Feast, and it seemed that excitement in the lower years was reaching a fever pitch from the small hints here and there that this year was going to be something really different and spectacular. There were pictures of scenes from the movie, cut out of Muggle magazines, pinned to notice boards in the three common rooms that Hermione knew of; requested from outside by those students of Muggle descent, and sent by confused parents. Hermione predicted a plethora of storm troopers, jawas and droids to appear on the night. She didn't know if there were any such pictures in the Slytherin common room, as there were no Muggle-borns in that house, but she was sure Malfoy would never let his house be left behind.

Harry had been quite excited about the idea; although the Dursleys never voluntarily took him anywhere, apparently his cousin owned the video but had grown tired of it, and Harry had been able to sneak off and watch it several times one summer on the cast off television in Dudley's second bedroom, which had been put in there when Dudley had decided the screen wasn't big enough. He had wanted to be a storm trooper and had confided to Hermione that it would be a relief to be anonymous for once and just follow Ron's orders. Hermione had found that to be incredibly insightful and sad about her friend.

But she did have to admit that Malfoy had found a theme that crossed gender and prejudice, and had done an excellent job of generating enthusiasm throughout the whole school. She was unaware that most people actually considered the idea to be hers, as she was a Muggle and that she was letting Malfoy take the credit because she was the nicer person.

She sighed as she placed her Arithmancy books on a table and approached Ron, slipping a hand into his and dodging the light saber. She hated to ruin his good mood, but it wouldn't do to delay any longer. She had already waited a day since Dumbledore's proclamation, and all the other prefects had to receive their new instructions, too. She had seen Draco smirking in Transfiguration this morning when Ron had mentioned something about the party to her. He knew she hadn't told Ron yet, and Hermione realised she had better be quick or he would find some way of letting it slip, and tactlessly. He got far too much pleasure from provoking Ron, and even though he might be just as annoyed about the directive as she, he would never be able to bypass the chance to wind Ron up. For some reason, any new maturity he was displaying this year did not seem to extend to her friends - especially Ron, and probably never would.

Ron gave a last evil laugh, and turned to Hermione, pulling the large black helmet off his head which made his hair stickup in all directions. Hermione grinned at him and smoothed her hand over his static charged head as he bent to kiss her cheek. 'Hey, Ron, we need to talk about something,' she said quietly, and he immediately reacted to her serious tone, frowning and casting off the rest of his costume.

'What's the matter, Mione?' he asked, hugging her and there was a distinct sigh heard from some of the other Gryffindors. Parvati mumbled from across the room, 'They're so cute,' in a loud stage whisper to Lavender, and Hermione determined that this conversation could not take place here.

'Come on, let's go for a walk,' she said, pulling Ron out of the common room behind her. Despite promptings by Ron, she refused to discuss the matter until she had guided him right out to the lake side. The giant squid was cruising slowly around making ripples in the water, enjoying one of the last few lingering fine autumn evenings.

'Ok, Mione, you're beginning to worry me now,' Ron said when they finally stood watching the sun dipping behind the forbidden forest.

'Ron, it's really not a bad thing,' she sighed. 'Just disappointing news. You know how Professor Dumbledore called us to his office on Monday after the meeting. He just had a few final requests - instructions really, about the Ball -'

'Merlin, he doesn't expect us to change the theme at this late date, does he?' Ron interrupted, aghast. 'How on earth can we put something else together at such short notice? I knew it was a mistake letting Malfoy have any influence. Although I kind of thought Dumbledore would be all over the Muggle aspect -'

'Hush, Ron!' Hermione said, exasperated. Of course he always found some way to turn it around and blame Malfoy. 'We don't need to change anything about the theme at all. He's very pleased with it. He wanted to clarify some things about attendance.' Ron looked confused and Hermione took a large steadying breath. 'Ron, the Headmaster is really, really keen on inter-house unity this year. The Sorting Hat has been pleading for us to integrate the houses more for the past few years, so Professor Dumbledore has decided that as the Head Students, Malfoy and I need to set an example for the whole school.' She stopped, hoping that she had said enough and that Ron would fill in the blanks without her actually having to spell it out to him, but he continued to look baffled.

'And what does that have to do with the Halloween party?' Ron asked when she seemed to be finished. 'Does he think you're going to get into a slanging match with Malfoy in the middle of the feast. I wouldn't put it past the slimy ferret to start something, but surely he knows you would be above that sort of thing?'

'Thank you, Ron,' Hermione sighed. Ron was so, so - clueless at times that she despaired of him. 'But that's not what Dumbledore wants. He's told us that we have to attend together. Be a visible sign of the spirit of cooperation. He also wants all the other prefects to attend with their counterparts from a different house -'

Ron was initially fairly quiet as he tried to process Hermione's words. 'He wants you to attend together?' he asked, repeating her words as if she had spoken a foreign language, his voice rising in volume as he processed what she had said, until he was fairly shouting as he continued, 'You mean Malfoy - and you? Going to the Ball - with each other. Like in a date or something?'

'No,' Hermione denied forcefully. 'Not a date. Never a date. But actually, yes - really. Sort of like a date. But not.'

'No!' Ron's mouth finally caught up with his brain. 'Mione, he can't do that to you, to us! He can't make you go with the ferret, he can't!' Hermione tried to interrupt his tirade, but he was just getting warmed up. 'Malfoy probably planned this himself, just to cause trouble. He's likely got some evil plan to sabotage the whole party, and blame Gryffindor for it! Well, I'm going to be watching him. I -'

'Ron!' Hermione shouted. 'Stop it. You know he's not going to do anything to ruin this party. It was all his idea anyway. Why on earth would he sabotage it? I'm sure Malfoy is no happier about this than I am, except where he knows you hate it. If you go around reacting like this, you're handing him a golden opportunity to provoke you. Merlin knows, his favourite thing in the world is to see you upset, and you want to hand it to him on a plate!'

'But, Hermione, he ruins everything,' Ron whined. 'Every time something good is going to happen, he gets there first and takes all the pleasure out of it. Even this - which he doesn't even want for himself, he gets to ruin it by proxy!'

'Well, Ron, he's had his fair share of bad experiences at our hands, too you know. At least he's never transfigured any of us into a rodent,' Hermione said fairly. 'Just keep picturing him as a giant slug and you'll be all set. That was our payback for the episode in 2nd year, remember?'

Despite his disappointment, her words managed to force a faint smile onto Ron's face. He supposed that technically it was true. Malfoy had certainly suffered for more indignities at their hands than the opposite. It just really didn't help to dwell on the past when it was the imminent future which was currently being so painfully ruined for him.

'Besides,' Hermione continued with a wink. 'You have to go with one of the other prefects. You should ask Pansy to go with you. That will really put his nose out of joint. Plus, it would make Dumbledore really happy!'

Ron snorted, not taking her seriously at all. 'Not a chance, Mione,' he exclaimed. 'I'll go with Luna, thank you very much. Damn, I still can't believe Dumbledore did that.'

Hermione was taken aback at Ron's certainty. Although he was obviously unhappy, it seemed to be more annoyance that Draco had been given something that Ron saw as a reward, than genuine disappointment that he couldn't attend as her date. He certainly had no hesitation in finding a substitute for Hermione. She was somewhat startled by this, and her mind spun back to the night Ron had first kissed her in the library, when she had wondered where he came by his skills. Obviously Ron had been keeping some things close to his chest in 6th year. Maybe Luna was one of those things?

'Um - Ok then,' she agreed, confused. 'We had better get back inside. I need to actually call a prefects meeting to announce this whole scheme anyway. I have to go up to the Owlery and send out message to the other prefects. I'm sure Malfoy has told Pansy and the other Slytherins by now.'

She got a sudden mental picture of Pansy's reaction - particularly in the light of the girl's recent demands that she herself spy on Draco, and had to swallow a sudden knot in her throat. She wasn't sure whether to be amused at the thought of Pansy's obvious horror, or to be worried in case Pansy took it personally and blamed Hermione, as Ron was blaming Draco. She resolved to keep her wand close all night in case Pansy tried out any disfiguring hexes.

She sighed and followed Ron back to the Castle. He was striding quickly ahead of her, his annoyance making him impatient, and his much longer stride causing her to break into a trot to keep up with him. He stopped as he reached the main doors and took a deep breath before turning to her and pulling her into a close hug which just about squeezed the last remaining breath out of her body.

'Well, it's a damn good thing Malfoy's not going as Luke Skywalker,' he said, obviously trying to put on a brave face for her. 'Can you imagine the idea that would give to the others?'

Hermione forced a smile and nodded nervously, hoping sincerely that none of the Muggle born students actually got around to telling Ron who the Princess actually ended up with in the later movies.


	12. Chapter 12

Of course, there had been some mutterings and questions when Hermione explained the new arrangement for attendance on Saturday; she was subjected to some very searching glances when she was compelled to admit that she was having to partner Malfoy, who was not present at this meeting due to a Quidditch scheduling conflict. She was painfully aware of Pansy's eyes boring into her back like knives, even though no one else seemed to think there was more to their partnership than appeared on the surface; obedience to the Headmaster.

Otherwise, it had been surprisingly painless hooking up the prefects with each other. Ginny had agreed to go with Justin from Hufflepuff while Harry took his girlfriend Juliet, a Ravenclaw in Ginny's year who was also not a prefect; they were all friendly beforehand anyway and seemed to agree with the need for House unity, so there was hardly any resentment. Although later many of the prefects came and expressed privately to Hermione that they thought their three Houses were already nicely integrated, and that it was only Slytherin which needed bringing into line.

Hermione had to agree, albeit silently, and so it seemed that she and Draco really would have to try harder to set a good example, although she despaired privately of ever managing to break through the decades of prejudice ingrained in the likes of Pansy and her acolytes.

She wondered if Malfoy was aware that Slytherin was so alienated from the rest of the school. Maybe their isolation from the other houses was what made them the way they were? Was it possible their aloofness was a form of defense against feeling ostracized by their peers? It was an interesting theory, and unfortunately the only way to explore it was to spend more time with the Head Boy. It seemed that if they were to fulfill Dumbledore's directive, that was the course she would have to take.

Luna had readily agreed to accompany Ron, and Hermione who happened to be nearby when he asked, watched her reactions closely. Luna's expression rarely changed from the usual dreamy, self absorbed imperturbability, but the alacrity with which she accepted Ron's casually tossed, 'Hey, Luna, you going to come with me then?' and his confidence that she would, made Hermione wonder if underneath her insouciant demeanor, Luna was carrying a torch for Ron. Thinking back, Hermione could pinpoint numerous occasions when Luna's abstracted behaviour around the red head might point towards a deeper affection for Ron than she admitted to. Hermione was back to her musings of the night before as to whether Luna had been a major contributor to Ron's skills last year, but she simply had no idea when Ron would have had the opportunity.

Luna had replied with her usual abstracted expression, 'What? This Saturday? That would be nice, Ronald.' She always called him by his full name, and Hermione found it annoying, but Ron didn't seem to mind at all. Luna's large eyes had stayed fixed onto him for the rest of the meeting, and she seemed to Hermione to be deep in thought.

However, these reflections did not engender in Hermione's heart any twinge of jealousy at all, which of course immediately increased her guilt quota because her next thought suggested that she secretly wanted to be Malfoy's date, and this lack of concern about a girl whom she truly believed fancied her boyfriend was a result of her own mental infidelity. Surely she should be more concerned that Ron's date for the evening was a girl who seemed to have a past with him and may even be hoping for a future?

She decided to think about it later. There was a locked room in her mind which was getting awfully overcrowded with things she was going to think about later; she just hoped the door would stay closed under the force of all the unwanted thoughts bursting to get out and be dealt with. If she could just keep everything locked away until next June, she would never have to set eyes on him again; surely there was no way their paths would ever cross after graduation, and then the insanity would evaporate.

****************

And that brought them here, to Saturday itself, the day of the Feast. After breakfast was cleared away, the prefects remained in the Great Hall and consulted the task lists they had been given. Professor DiBona remained behind also, and Draco immediately approached her, carrying a large box which they began unpacking.

This proved to contain various electrical items which Hermione would have thought could not be operated within Hogwarts. Of course, Draco had already presented the showing of Star Wars on a small tv/vcr combo in the prefects office, and she had been silently impressed that he had managed to make that work, but what he and Professor DiBona were unpacking now looked more like an actual cinema projector complete with tape reels and a fully outfitted movie screen.

Despite her curiosity, Hermione refused to go straight over to Draco and watch him work; she forced herself to spend the first couple of hours assisting the other prefects with various transfiguration tasks, until the Hall was beginning to look eerily like deepest Outer Space; this was nothing like the twinkling stars which had comprised the magnificent ceiling of the Great Hall on Hermione's Sorting night as a first year.

This was something darker and more vast even than that. Above the main doors, and directly opposite the staff table, the Ravenclaw boys were painstakingly recreating a model of the Death Star, which was beginning to look so real it almost scared Hermione. The Gryffindors were transfiguring some small plastic child's airplanes (obtained from someone's muggle younger brother) into replicas of the fighter planes from the end of the movie. These had been charmed to fly around the ceiling and randomly fire at each other before exploding and then reanimating. The Hufflepuffs were casting glamours over the suits of armour in the Hall to make it appear that there were Storm Troopers patrolling the walls. Without exception, Hermione knew, the rest of the school would be awestruck.

However, eventually she found that her feet had taken her subconsciously over to where Draco and Professor DiBona were erecting their movie theatre.

'Ah, Hermione,' Professor DiBona greeted her, for she had been facing in Hermione's direction and had seen her approach. Draco tensed momentarily and if Hermione's traitorous eyes had not been resting on his body she would have missed it the motion was so small. 'Come and give us your expert Muggle opinion on this.'

Draco straightened from his position on the floor, causing his trousers to tighten across his backside and Hermione felt the back of her neck begin to sweat. He had tossed his school robes over a chair and rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbows. His forearms were one of the parts Hermione found most erotic on a man, so of course Draco's had to be perfect; just the right play of muscles against a light covering of golden hair. Hermione could feel an unwelcome flush of arousal starting deep within her stomach and spreading along all of her nerve endings. This was ridiculous; she didn't get this turned on when she was making out with her boyfriend. How could this be happening to her just because Draco Malfoy had rolled his sleeves up? It was sick.

Hermione tried to stare deeply into Professor DiBona's eyes so that her own would not stray against her will to his arms or his arse, even while she shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the ache building up between her legs.

'Yes, Granger,' Draco agreed silkily, not turning to look at her. 'Do give us your opinion as to whether this would pass on the High Street?'

'It looks very good,' Hermione managed to stammer, focusing hard on the Muggle Studies teacher. 'I am sure that both the Muggle-borns and those who have had absolutely no exposure to Muggle culture will be very impressed.'

Professor DiBona beamed at Hermione. 'I thought so. Draco has really done a splendid job. I've hardly had to help him at all; just a few contacts to assist him with obtaining the equipment. I think this will turn out to be the definitive Muggle Studies project for all future 7th year students.'

Well, that finally made a dent in Hermione's hormones. This wasn't a homework project, and Draco was not the only person involved in its execution! How could the Professor be thinking of giving him academic credit for something which was a team effort. Great Merlin's socks! Professor DiBona was smiling at Draco in the same manner that all the other teachers - Snape excluded - smiled at her. The fact that this was their Muggle Studies teacher showering delighted praise over Mudblood hating, purebred Slytherin snob, Draco Malfoy, was verging on the surreal. Hermione could barely believe that he had managed to overcome his prejudice for long enough to actually take the class, let alone become its star pupil!

He must be plotting something; he had to be. She just had to get over this insane hormonal attraction to him, and then she would be able to see the bigger picture; concentrate on his intentions, not his muscles. Forget about the way he smells standing so close to you, in the heat of the busy Great Hall, a hint of exotic spice and citrus...... Stop that, this minute, Hermione! Get a grip on yourself!

He turned suddenly and she was jerked back to the present. 'Well Granger, if we are going to be on show for the whole school tonight, I suppose we better make it good. I'll wait for you in the study at 6.00 and we can walk to dinner together and make a grand entrance for Dumbledore.'

'What - but -' Hermione began. It was quite dreadful how she couldn't seem to string together whole sentences when she was around the Head Boy these days.

'That's an excellent idea,' the Professor interjected. 'I think it would be splendid if we could make room at the faculty table for you both. How inspiring for the rest of the school to see you both sitting there, all dressed up! I must talk to the Headmaster about it.' She swept away, apparently on a mission to find Professor Dumbledore, and present her idea to him, leaving Hermione staring aghast at Draco.

He gave her a blindingly false smile which nonetheless managed to eradicate all conscious thought from her scrambled brain, and turned his back to her again sweeping away with a smug reminder. '6.00 then Granger. It's a date!'

****************

'What have you done to me?' Hermione wailed. She was staring in horror into the mirror in Ginny's dormitory and patting the coiled knots of hair currently perched over each of her ears.

'What?' Ginny replied in confusion. 'I thought that was what her hair was supposed to look like. It's exactly like the picture.'

'I know,' Hermione moaned, 'But I didn't think anyone could make my hair do that!'

Ginny sniggered. 'Oh, very sneaky, Miss Head Girl. Are you telling me you only agreed to dress like this because you thought you wouldn't have to wear the whole costume?' Hermione cast her a shamed look which spoke volumes. 'Well, I'm pleased to say that I am very good at glamour charms,' Ginny continued. 'You may be right, your hair may be a bit too wild to cooperate on its own, but I have the basic style there, and just small glamour to give the illusion, and voila, May I present Princess Hermione!'

'Her name is Leia,' Hermione growled, poking a finger into the center of one of the coils and twisting it around a bit. She knew she had loosened several of the hairs; she could even feel them tickling the side of her neck, but the reflection in the mirror remained unchanged. 'How did you do this, Gin?' she asked.

'Ah, ah! Not telling. It will wear off at 2.00 am, but until then only I know the incantation to remove it!' Ginny giggled. 'Don't be a grouch, Mione. You look really good. Try and remember that the Prefects and the Heads are allowed to have fun tonight as well as being monitors. Just dump Malfoy after dinner, and everything will be fine!'

'I look like an idiot wearing a couple of doughnuts on her head,' Hermione grumbled, 'and this dress is almost see-though. Heaven help me if it gets cold tonight. Ugh. I have to go back to my room. Draco thinks we should go into dinner together, and Professor DiBona was going to arrange for us to sit at the staff table. I am so not looking forward to this.'

'Draco?' Ginny asked surprised, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she exited the bedroom, not seeming to realise that Ginny was questioning her use of his first name and not her reporting of his unreasonable demands.

She emerged through the portrait into her bedroom to hear knocking on the study door, and Malfoy's voice calling out, 'You ready yet, Granger? Dumbledore just flooed us to say he's made room at the staff table, so we need to get moving now.'

Hermione sighed and took a last critical appraisal of herself in her own mirror, which giggled and made a comment about her new hairstyle not being much of an improvement on her old one. 'Oh, be quiet,' she snapped at the looking glass. 'Seven years of bad luck would be an improvement on my mood right now, so don't push me!'

She opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the study to join Draco. It was the first time she had been in that room with him since the evening they initially discussed tonight's event, and he proposed the idea which had ended up with her standing here at this moment, in a slinky dress and wearing pastries on her head.

In the usual spirit of unfairness, Malfoy looked absolutely gorgeous in his outfit, and he had used some type of glamour also, to darken his hair so that it was the correct brownish colour of his character. The tight tunic, black pants, knee boots and gun holster only emphasized all those Quidditch muscles, and Hermione could feel her insides begin squirming just at the sight of him waiting there, restlessly slapping one thigh with his transfigured blaster as he waited for her to appear.

'Bugger,'

she thought to herself. She didn't stand a chance; there he stood looking every inch the image of her favourite movie character, wrapped around the most desirable boy in the school. At least she didn't have to worry about getting cold anymore. She thought she might just spontaneously combust from the sight of him. What obnoxious twist of fate had led him to choose this movie, and this character out of the millions that had ever been made in Hollywood? She almost wondered if he had been reading her mind; she had tried so hard to ignore the significance of his selection ever since he made it, but standing here now, in front of him dressed as he was, she felt sure he had chosen on purpose and that it was part of an elaborate scheme to drive her insane, which she just couldn't quite figure out yet.'Come on,' he said now, putting his gun back into its holster and reaching out for her hand. 'Let's get moving.' Shocks and tingles ran up and down her arms originating from the area his fingers held hers, and she felt her heartbeat speed up; her nostrils flared as she caught the drift of his exotic cologne.

She was so befuddled by his proximity that she almost missed the taunting quality of his next sly comment, 'Cold, Granger?' he asked, and gave her a lewd wink when she gasped as she finally realised what he meant, and cast an uncontrollable glance to the front of her dress only to be mortified at the sight of her pebble-stiff nipples lovingly defined by the clinging silky material of her white dress. She turned her back on him and cast a quick flattening spell over her chest until she was content that everything was smooth again.

'Yes, I am rather,' she hissed as she marched towards the doors and the security of other people. Lots of other people. 'It is nearly winter, after all.'

Draco stared at her retreating back. She couldn't possibly expect him to believe that she was cold, could she? Merlin, he was so bloody hot he was just about to melt into a puddle of goo at the sight of her in that slinky outfit; he had been as hard as nails from the moment she opened her bedroom door, and he could only thank the Gods that he had known he would have this reaction and had cast the localized concealing spell that he was now having to use as part of his daily wardrobe, before he even left his own room. The brief touch of her hand as he tried to take it to lead her down to dinner had used up most of his remaining control, and the sight of her erect nipples against the white silk had caused his aching penis to start leaking into his underwear. He was going to be in Hell before this evening was over. He knew it.

Dinner was agony; they sat next to each other at the centre of the faculty table flanked by Professor Snape on one side and Professor McGonagall on the other, as their Heads of House. The Headmaster was sitting way down at the end beside Professor DiBona, and talking animatedly to her; presumably about what to expect when the charms concealing the decorations were lifted at the start of the actual Ball itself. Hermione felt like an exhibit in a Muggle zoo, and Malfoy's overwhelming proximity wasn't helping her hormones at all. His leg seemed to brush against hers every time he moved, and everything he wanted to eat seemed to be situated the other side of where she was sitting, necessitating his reaching across her every few minutes to serve himself. He of course was happily oblivious of the effect he was having on her, chatting away to McGonagall as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to think of a single topic of conversation to broach with Professor Snape, as all her energies were taken up by fighting the unwanted arousal she was feeling, and denying that there were aches in parts of her body that she had seriously begun to believe didn't function as the other girls in her year told her they should. No question about whether they had been wrong now, then. Everything worked beautifully. Just for the wrong person. She sent a helpless glance towards the Gryffindor table only to find that Luna was sitting with Ron, Harry, Ginny, Juliet and Justin in the spirit of inter-house cooperation that Dumbledore had wanted. Ron turned briefly, seeming to feel her eyes on him, and sent her a sympathetic grimace, but Luna soon drew his attention back to her, and Hermione was left with nothing but her awareness of the Head Boy for company.

After what seemed like at least several excruciating hours, Professor Dumbledore stood and announced the beginning of the Ball. The students all stood and stepped back from the tables as they cleared of the debris of the meal, and then with a flick of his wrist, the Headmaster transfigured the four long house tables into small round occasional tables along the edge of the walls, for the students to sit and rest at in between dances.

A small cheer went up, and Dumbledore cast a sonorous charm, before announcing 'Ladies and gentlemen, students and faculty of Hogwarts, I am very pleased to welcome you to this year's Halloween Feast, which I am sure you all know by now, is going to be very different from previous years. Without further delay, may I introduce to you this year's Head Boy and Girl whose hard work and dedication have made this event possible, Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Draco Malfoy.' A smattering of cheers was heard, but most students, Hermione and Draco included weren't sure what to make of this impromptu speech. They certainly hadn't been warned that the Headmaster was planning to make such a speech, and simply stood where they had risen from their seats smiling and waiting for him to finish.

Dumbledore continued, 'Momentarily, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger will lift the charm which has concealed the decorations from you during the meal, and the celebrating will commence. But first, in the spirit of unilateral cooperation which I hope to see spreading throughout all the houses in the school this year, I would like to ask our exemplary Head Students to lead all the house prefects in an opening dance.' The Headmaster waved his wand again, and the strains of a waltz began playing in the air around the room. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin!'

The sly old fox

, Draco thought nervously as he turned to Hermione and held out his hand to her. He knew how to waltz; he was a pureblood from one of the oldest families in the world, he had been taught such things in the nursery. He didn't know if Granger could dance, but he expected she would be able to follow his lead even if she didn't. His real problem was that his heart seemed to have jumped loose from its correct position and lodged itself somewhere at the back of his throat. It was quite one thing to have cast a concealing charm over his disobedient cock, but that only protected him visually. This close, he had no doubt Hermione would be able to feel what she was doing to him, and having her in his arms, breathing in the delicious honeysuckle scent of her skin, touching that skin was not going to help his terrible arousal in the least.Hermione was sweating as she walked down from the staff table to join Draco in the centre of the now empty floor. Her parents enjoyed ballroom dancing and had several medals for competing; she and her Dad often danced in the evenings during school holidays, so she had no fears for her skills. She was instead worried that Draco would be able to tell how unacceptably aroused she was by his presence. Thank Merlin the flattening charm was still working over her nipples even though she could still feel the dull throbbing ache, at least she was alone in the knowledge.

Suddenly she caught sight of Ron and the unhappy expression on his face gave her the courage to step up to Draco and allow him to turn her into the first steps. Think about Ron, don't look at Malfoy, she kept repeating the mantra in her head until shortly the other prefects joined them on the dance floor, although none seemed as graceful and at ease with the steps as did the Head Boy and Girl.

At last the tortuous dance came to an end and with audible relief Hermione and Draco leapt away from each other; neither sure how much longer they could have kept up the pretense of distaste for the other. Standing separated by three feet of distance and six years of prejudice, they waited where they stopped in the middle of the dance floor and at a signal from the Headmaster spoke the words which dropped the concealing charm, and the Great Hall became the set of Star Wars.

The accompanying gasps and exclamations made it easy for Hermione and Draco to retreat in confusion to opposite ends of the room. Draco went immediately to find Professor DiBona and commence projection of the movie; there was already a throng of eager students around the screening area, mostly curious wizards and witches with no previous exposure to any Muggle culture who had heard the rumours which were running rife around the school for the past month, and couldn't wait to see this amazing Muggle invention called cinema.

Hermione gratefully escaped his overwhelming presence, glad that she did not have to pretend any enthusiasm for the novelty it posed here. She slipped gratefully up beside Ron, Harry and their dates, but given her status and costume she was not allowed to be anonymous for long.

In deference to the complexity of Draco's theme for the night, a live music band had not been hired to perform. Charmed dance music from both wizarding and Muggle bands was playing over the chatter and movement of the students not currently watching the movie in the cinema corner.

Hermione knew that Dumbledore expected she and Draco to spend more time together than merely the first dance, but she needed time to rebuild her defenses against him, and she hoped to have a chance to do this whilst Draco was setting up the equipment with Professor DiBona. She pulled Ron away from Luna and out onto the dance floor, resting her head against his shoulder, and letting her heart beat slow down. It was such a relief to be away from the Head Boy's arousing presence, and in Ron's calming embrace, that it didn't occur to her until much later just how utterly backwards and wrong that whole scenario was.

She danced briefly with Harry, Justin and a couple of younger boys, trying to be scrupulously fair in picking partners from all houses; however, she was pleasantly surprised when invited to dance by a couple of 4th year Slytherin boys, who behaved very well and made polite conversation without a hint of prejudice.

She caught sight of Draco dancing with Pansy, and despaired of the plunging feeling which occurred deep in the pit of her stomach on seeing the girl laying her cheek against Draco's tunic, and watching her hand play around with the false gun belt strapped to his thigh. Dear Merlin, she had to get over this - this fixation she had developed in her head for Draco Malfoy, before it began to ruin the good things which were happening in her life.

Draco couldn't bear the feel of Pansy touching him, but he knew it was strategically unavoidable that he dance with her, if only to throw the scent off his feelings for Hermione. His flesh crawled as she stroked his chest and thighs, and he only managed to finish the dance without pushing her away by closing his eyes and imagining that it was the Head Girl caressing him. Merlin, what she did to him in that dress; he probably should have been committed for this insane idea.

He had watched her dancing with boy after boy since they opened up the Ball; he couldn't blame them, for how could they resist the sight of her in the white silk - but none hurt as much as Ron Weasley. She had flowed straight into the red head's arms the second she left him on the dance floor. Even through his setting up of the projector he had watched her dance blissfully with her so-called boyfriend, snuggling against his chest with her eyes dreamily closed. He was a fool, to be fantasizing about her when he was with Pansy for she was certainly not thinking about him while she was with the Weasel.

He untangled Pansy's roving hands from his person and set her at arm's length. 'I have to get on with circulating; the Headmaster expects it,' he told her, gritting his teeth to maintain his pleasant façade. 'Go mingle yourself, like a good little prefect, Pans.' He pushed her none too gently towards a group of 6th year Hufflepuffs and stalked off before she could protest.

Pansy scowled at his retreating back, absolutely livid; she had set her hopes high on being able to recapture his interest tonight, and that meddling old fool Dumbledore had ruined all of her plans. She ignored the Hufflepuffs and marched across to where her friends Mary and Millie were sitting at a table with her current beau Blaise Zabini, and Draco's two moronic associates, Vince Crabbe and Greg Goyle.

She dropped into a chair beside Blaise and ignored him as he rubbed her back, leaning forward instead and hissing to Mary and Millie, 'I'm going to get that rotten little Mudblood, Granger! She's ruined all of my plans, and she had the nerve to blow me off when I asked for a favour! Look at her now, hanging all over that dirt-poor Weasley boy! And they all say she's the brains of this school!'

Blaise, who had been rolling his eyes at Greg and Vince behind her back, pricked his ears up at this snippet of information. He would have to find out what favour Granger had refused to do for Pansy. It might prove useful to the right person.

'What are you going to do?' Millie asked in a whisper, and Pansy shook her head angrily.

'I don't know yet, but I'll think of something. Not right now anyway - nearer the end of school so we won't get in too much trouble if we're caught. And it needs to look like an accident!'

Mary and Millie looked at her in consternation, and Mary squeaked 'We?' in abject terror. Blaise sniggered to himself. Who could have expected 7th year would turn out to be so much fun?


	13. Chapter 13

The 1st to 3rd years had to leave at 10.00pm although they complained bitterly about the early curfew; Hermione heard random bits of conversation as she circulated the Great Hall rounding them up and encouraging them on their way. It seemed that without exception everyone had found the night to be an unqualified success. She thought most of the younger students were far too excited to sleep anyway, but she directed the 5th year Gryffindor prefects to accompany their charges to the common room, and do their best to motivate them to retire for the night.

She would far rather have gone herself to herd them to bed, and be done with Malfoy's disturbing presence for the evening, but Dumbledore had been casting her significant glances for the past half hour, and although she had spread herself evenly amongst every house this evening, she knew she would have to seek out the Head Boy and be visible in his company again shortly. She only hoped the few hours of distance had cooled her hormones after all the casual brushing and reaching at dinner which had sent them into a frenzy.

As the last stragglers of the lower years drifted out of the Hall accompanied by their respective prefects, Hermione sighed and braced herself to seek out Malfoy. However, before she could even wonder where to look for him, Ron was beside her drawing her into a close dance to much slower music than had been playing previously. Hermione thought about telling him that Dumbledore was watching her and expecting results, but she had only danced twice with Ron tonight, and she thought even the Headmaster could not begrudge them one more dance before she stepped back into Head Girl mode.

Hermione was physically tired and mentally drained; being on display in a costume she found uncomfortably revealing, worrying about her reactions to Malfoy, and organizing tonight's event had robbed her of her usual energy, and she rested her head against Ron's shoulder drifting aimlessly with the music. She was hardly aware of how close he had drawn her, relishing the chance to relax briefly before the obligations reared up again.

She didn't really notice that the room was darker and seemingly more intimate with the younger students gone. Ron snuggled her closer to him and their movements slowed to a gentle swaying as she tried to clear her mind of the evening's stress. She was consequently shocked when he applied pressure to the back of her head and titled her face up from his shoulder so that he could cover her mouth with his own, and when she realised he was actually snogging her fiercely in the middle of the Great Hall in front of the remaining students and Professors she struggled backwards in embarrassment.

'What are you doing, Ron?' she whispered urgently. 'Everyone can see!'

Ron looked a little affronted at her forceful withdrawal. 'Nothing that everyone else isn't doing, Mione,' he said in a wounded tone, and casting her eyes quickly around the room, Hermione was forced to admit that he was correct to an extent. Many couples were dancing slowly and involved in varying intensities of public embraces.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled remorsefully. 'I just wasn't expecting it, and I don't want the Headmaster telling me I'm behaving inappropriately for my position. He had expectations of me for this evening -'

'Stop it, Mione,' Ron said irritably. 'I know he made rules for you, but you've been off behaving like the perfect Head Girl all night. Surely we can have one slow dance without your responsibilities interfering!'

Hermione felt terrible. She had been so busy trying to socialise with all the houses as Dumbledore had requested, but at the same time bending the spirit of the request by doing so whilst still managing to avoid Malfoy, that she had pretty much ignored her actual boyfriend. 'You're right,' she said sadly and relaxed back into his arms; he had shed his cloak and mask in the warmth of the Hall. In her guilt and need to compensate Hermione allowed her hand to caress the base of his spine, and with a surprised murmur he reached around and moved her hand so that it was cupping his arse cheek.

Hermione was startled by his boldness; although he had made no attempt to hide his arousal from her since they started dating, she realised suddenly that she still never really perceived him in a sexual way at all.

'No, I'm sorry, Mione,' he said now into her hair. 'You're doing a wonderful job - you're the best Head Girl the school has ever had, and none of the others had to contend with that bloody ferret either. Do you have any idea how sexy that damn dress is? I promise you I'm not the only guy to think so tonight, and watching you pass from wizard to wizard, seeing them touching you, just made me jealous, is all..'

He knew she was about to object by the way her body instinctively stiffened, and forestalled her by kissing her again, pulling her closer to his body so that she could feel him growing against her stomach. He moaned into her mouth, and all of a sudden Hermione felt her spine shiver, her nipples pulling into tight hard little points and that new throbbing swelling she had only just begun to experience began between her legs; her own breathing sped up as she allowed herself to rub slightly against him.

It was about time that her hormones began responding to the right boy. Damn, but Ron had gotten good at this! A thought occurred to her and she drew back from him; for Hermione, a question required an immediate answer. 'Ron,' she whispered, wondering if she was crossing boundaries but it seemed suddenly very important to know the answer to this, 'Are you a virgin?'

Whatever Ron had been expecting, it was not that. He jerked upright and stared at her as if he didn't recognise her, obviously uncertain of what had prompted such a question or whether he should respond to it. However, fate apparently decided that Hermione was not to know the answer to that question today, or even if she had offended him by asking, for a coolly mocking voice beside her left ear suddenly added, 'Yes, Weasley, do tell. I'm sure we'd all like to know who'd be desperate enough to shag you!'

Oh shit!

Hermione thought, he's right behind me! And close on the heels of that thought followed the more disturbing realisation that her body was not finally responding to the correct person at all. Instead it had apparently recognised Draco Malfoy even as he approached unseen, and began to prepare itself for him.

***************

Draco wore a feral smile of satisfaction plastered to his face as he interrupted Hermione's moment with the Weasel. He had been watching her with one eye all evening, slowly simmering into a state of boiling rage as she changed to partner after partner, but as long as she was not with the Weasel, he managed to contain his jealousy. However, she had been snuggled up to the red headed idiot for far too long now, and the sudden appearance of Dumbledore at his side had for once proved to be a blessing rather than a hindrance.

'Ah, Mr Malfoy,' the Headmaster said narrowing his eyes as he discovered where Draco's own were resting. 'Wonderfully successful evening. I just sat and watched the film with some first years. Very exciting, lots of action. But do you know, I really don't think that the princess will end up with that young fellow; he seems much more like a brother to her. I think she needs someone more - unconventional; someone with a bit of a Past, a reformed rogue, perhaps? What do you think Mr Malfoy. Might I be correct?'

Draco cast a disbelieving look at Professor Dumbledore, trying to determine whether he was genuinely talking about the movie - if he had actually seen the later episodes, or if he was (and Draco found this suspicion to be verging on the surreal) actually using the plot as a metaphor, and - could it be possible - encouraging Draco to pursue the Gryffindor Head Girl?

Dumbledore waited until he had Draco's full and rapt attention, then continued mildly. 'I thinks its time that our Head Students reunited to see out the dwindling hours of an exceptional evening, don't you Mr Malfoy? Off you go and get the girl - ah, the Head Girl I mean, of course - and make sure you both circulate together for the rest of the evening.'

Great Merlin,

Draco thought, he is - Dumbledore just told me to go ahead and break up the Golden couple! And then, bold as brass, the Headmaster winked at him and moved on to the next group of students, leaving Draco lost in a brand new admiration of the truly Slytherin nature of his headmaster.Draco glided towards the Head Girl and her consort; he could feel all his senses heightening the closer he approached to Granger, until it felt as though his skin was burning. He came to a halt beside her left elbow, acknowledging that neither she nor the Weasel had been aware of his approach. Granger was concentrating on Weasley with the pensive expression on her face that Draco knew always meant she was working some problem through in her head. At least they had stopped kissing now, and seemed to be in the process of having a very intense conversation; but Weasley was still holding her entirely too close to him for Draco's liking.

However, whatever sarcastic comment he had been intending to make fell by the wayside as he heard Granger's muttered query. Both she and the Weasel spun around suddenly aware of his presence as the drawled words fell from his lips into the awkward silence which had followed Hermione's question. Granger glared at him, and Weasley merely goggled at them both in turn. Apparently, he couldn't believe either a) that Granger had asked such a thing or b) that Draco could have been blessed with the great good fortune to have overheard it.

Draco looked at them. 'What?' he asked, 'Oh, come on now - you can't possibly believe I would just be able to leave that laying there? Come on, Weasley, let's hear all your romantic secrets. I - hey!' This last in protest as Granger, looking fit to be tied, grabbed hold forcibly to his right arm and dragged him away from the volatile red head before the situation could escalate into outright violence.

'Are you insane?' she hissed at him as she maneuvered him over to a deserted table along the side of the room. 'Do you want to start a fight with Ron, because you are certainly going the right way about it.! You have to be the most tactless person I have ever encountered in my whole life! I should have let him hex you, you pompous, arrogant Slytherin git, but -'

'Why, Granger,' he drawled. 'I didn't know you cared. But I can defend myself against one enraged Weasel, so don't you worry your little head about me -'

'But,' Granger continued repressively as if he had not interrupted, 'Dumbledore told us to set an example tonight, and I am sure he didn't mean in how to start a fight! I at least understand why he wants everyone to get on better. You, however, seem to be just as immature as you were in the second year. Either that, or you have completely lost your mind. That was a private conversation - how could you think even in your wildest dreams that you could ask Ron that -'

'Oh, I didn't, Granger,' Draco smirked. 'It was you doing the asking. I just happened along and wanted to know the answer! But then, you didn't get your answer either - I know what I think, but what about you? Do you think your boyfriend is all untouched and virginal, waiting for you to give him permission to move to the next step, or do you think he's been sneaking off with other witches for the past couple of years whilst he waited for you to wake up and smell the wildlife -'

'Ugh, you're disgusting, Malfoy,' Granger snorted and made to storm away from him, but faster than lightening he had a hold of her wrist.

'Not so fast, Granger,' he said smugly. 'The headmaster sent me to find you. He feels we have been lax in appearing together tonight, so for the remainder of the evening we're to be stuck together like glue. Might as well get used to it!'

Within moments she had worked herself into a fine temper and she was practically vibrating with rage as she glared at Draco. She simply couldn't believe he had intruded on such an embarrassing and private moment with Ron, and then to mock him as well. She was surprised at herself; she had never been this furious with him before, even after some of the more vicious schemes he had perpetrated in their younger years. In fact, Hermione didn't think she had ever been so mad at anyone in her whole life before. She felt as though her formidable self control was slipping away, and the knowledge that she could not allow herself the luxury of expressing exactly how she felt because of their visible position and responsibility to set an example for the school, was making her tremble with the effort of holding it all in.

She wanted to hit him, she wanted to yell at him; she wanted to rage at him how it was all his fault that she couldn't think about being intimate with Ron without his image intruding on her vision, but most of all she wished she could just wake up tomorrow and find out that it was still the first week of term, and then she would make sure she never ever went near the potions lab with Ginny, Luna and Amber.

Draco watched her bent head and quivering shoulders with something that felt strangely like guilt. He had hated seeing her so intimate with the Weasel, but he hated even more seeing how upset she was now. He couldn't believe what she was doing to his head; ever since he had realised he wanted Hermione Granger his whole life had turned upside down, and now he was even considering apologizing for making fun of Ron Weasley. No, he couldn't do that - not even for her; it was physiologically impossible. He sighed.

'Look, Granger, would it help if I said I was sorry?' He didn't just say that! He didn't! That absolutely, definitely, positively did not just come out of his mouth! Did it?

Apparently.

Her head shot up and she was looking at him with something akin to shock. 'What - did you just - apologize to me, Malfoy?' she gasped.

Draco ground his teeth. 'I think that's generally what the word sorry means, Granger,' he growled, unable to believe that his mouth had disobeyed his brain so blatantly. 'I suppose it's possible I might have been a bit out of line. Oh, good grief, Granger! Do close your mouth,' I can see your tongue. I want you to put it down my throat. 'You look like a guppy with that expression on your face. Doesn't go with the hairdo!'

Hermione, who had been gaping open-mouthed in shock, snapped her teeth together decisively. 'Right, Malfoy. Let's do this then; shall we just stand by the drinks table and try to look happy? We should be quite noticeable there. Everyone must be thirsty by now; it's quite warm in here. And by the way, it's Ron you should apologize to, not me!'

Yeah, that'll happen!

Draco thought as without waiting for an answer, she marched away to the table where the punch bowl and pumpkin juice jugs were standing, leaving Draco to follow at a strategic distance that captured the maximum effect of her rounded bottom swaying in the white silk. He saw her cast a reassuring glance at Weasley who was watching them angrily, despite the presence of that extremely odd Ravenclaw girl, trying to direct him around the dance floor.They stayed posted at opposite ends of the drinks table and managed to talk to a wide variety of the remaining students for another excruciating hour, until at last it was nearing midnight and Dumbledore cast a sonorous spell on his voice to announce that this would be the last dance of the evening.

'What a successful evening it has been,' the Headmaster continued. 'We have seen the fusion of Muggle technology and wizarding ingenuity; many of us have experienced something new tonight. It is my great hope that we will continue to see an acceptance of new ideas, an interest in how the other half lives. And so in closing, I would just like to ask our Head Students to step up here and accept a round of applause for all their hard work and planning! Draco, Hermione, please come here!'

Reluctantly, they left the relative security of their table and joined the Headmaster at the staff table to the accompaniment of loud cheers and whistles (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff) and a smattering of half-hearted applause from Slytherin. Dumbledore shook Draco's hand and bestowed a courtly kiss to the back of Hermione's, then turned back to the students who were still remaining in the Hall. 'Let us close then tonight as we started, following the lead of our Head Boy and Girl; music, please!' He waved his wand and the room was filling with the melody of a Muggle love song. Dumbledore gestured to Hermione and Draco to take the floor and start the dancing, and with trepidation they moved to join the other couples who were moving slowly to the music.

'Do you know this song, Granger?' Draco asked as they took their places opposite each other. He wanted to hold her as close as Weasley had, to feel her pressed against him and pretend that they were lovers who were using the music as foreplay to a night of wild unrestrained passion. Of course, she would never let him, so it would have to remain his fantasy.

'I do,' Hermione admitted. 'It's called Breathe and it's sung by a girl called Faith Hill. Do you like it?' she asked unaware that she had drifted closer to him. She listened to the words of the song as she awaited his answer, thinking how perfectly it would fit were they really lovers.

'I've never heard it before,' Draco said, closing the space between them even further, 'It's quite erotic if you listen,' he whispered by her ear; they were almost touching now, and she could feel the heat of his breath stirring the hair against her neck as he spoke.

'Yes,' she sighed unaware of what she was affirming. His arm was moving around her waist, aligning her with his body, and she allowed her forehead to rest on his shoulder. He was the perfect height for her; she always got a crick in her neck looking up to Ron. For the first time all evening she allowed herself to relax; in fact every atom in her body felt at peace for what seemed to be the first time in weeks, and totally subconsciously her body conformed itself to the contours of his.

Draco himself was equally euphoric with his current situation, he heard himself sigh into her hair and he rested his cheek on the top of her head, and settled his arms more firmly around her as they swayed to the music. Luckily it seemed to be a lengthy song, because he really didn't want to relinquish her to her Gryffindor beau just yet. It felt far too right having her this close to him; even his weeks long erection seemed secondary to the feeling of absolute completion he was experiencing just from holding her.

******

Albus Dumbledore stood by the doors of the Great Hall, watching the last of the dancers as Minerva came up to him. 'This seems like an awfully long tune, Albus,' she commented. 'I thought we were sending the students to bed now; doesn't this song seem to have been playing over and over again. Maybe the charm has stuck?'

'Maybe,' the Headmaster answered, 'But then maybe it's just the right length,' and he nodded his head to the centre of the dancing area. Minerva had to strain to see what he was indicating as the lighting seemed to have dimmed concurrent with the length of the song playing, but when she did see what Albus had been watching, she gasped and pressed a hand to her breast.

'Good Lord, Albus!' she exclaimed. ' I would never have believed it if I didn't see it with my own eyes. Is Severus still here?'

Albus laughed. 'My goodness. You don't honestly imagine that Severus stayed here a moment past the end of his chaperoning duty do you, my dear?' She smiled in acknowledgement, and turned back to contemplation of the Head Boy and Girl, who were currently wrapped tightly in each other's arms as they floated around the dance floor, totally engrossed in each other and oblivious to the rest of the school.

It was a vision that Minerva McGonagall had never thought to see if she had lived to be two hundred. And there was something definitely off about it.

Minerva frowned suddenly, 'Why isn't Mr Weasley trying put a stop to stop this?' she asked suspiciously. 'You've been messing around with charms, haven't you, Albus? He's staring right at them and hasn't noticed a thing!'

'Well, maybe just a little disillusionment charm,' the Headmaster confessed with a smile, 'Oh, and I might have extended the song just a smidgeon -'

'Albus!' Minerva exclaimed scandalized. 'You can't do that to the students, no matter how badly you want to promote House unity. What will they think tomorrow when all their peers start asking about this?'

'Why, no, Minerva, you don't understand. It is not the students I have placed the charm on. It is Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger; at the moment only you and I can see what is really happening. To everyone else they appear only to be dancing in a very circumspect manner befitting two representatives of opposing houses who are working on a new détente. I just thought I would arrange to give them a little privacy; I am quite sure they are both absolutely horrified by this and are trying very hard to fight it!'

Minerva was stuck speechless. 'Goodness me,' she gasped and turned to study the young couple again. 'Good Lord. Albus, without a doubt you are as sneaky as a Slytherin. I would never in a million years have thought - Will they remember this in the morning?'

The Headmaster twinkled at her, 'Well, of course they will. I wouldn't dream of putting a memory charm on a student! But I suspect that the fact that everyone else has been oblivious of the event, and no one expresses any displeasure to them, may lead them to think they imagined it!'

Minerva could not repress a giggle. 'I take it back, Albus. You are sneakier than a Slytherin!'


	14. Chapter 14

Reality returned with a vengeance the following morning. Hermione awoke in her own room with Crookshanks snoozing on the end of her bed, but she couldn't exactly remember how she arrived there. She had a strange feeling that she had done something which might be considered inadvisable, but couldn't exactly put her finger on what precisely it was.

She had clear recollections of Malfoy turning up at the most inopportune moment he could have chosen, and of herself yelling at him in a whisper in a corner of the Hall. But in between that and walking back to the Gryffindor Common Room with Ron, Harry and Ginny her memories were disturbing and elusive as mist.

She thought she could recall dancing very intimately with Draco Malfoy - snuggling even? But that couldn't have actually happened because she was very clear on the fact that Ron had escorted her back to her dormitory smiling and holding her hand, and there was no way he would have been so calm if she had been cuddling with Malfoy, after what he had overheard last night. More likely he and Malfoy would both be in the infirmary right now if those things which Hermione thought she remembered had really occurred. She concluded she would have to put it down to a disturbingly realistic stress-induced dream which she must try and forget.

Frustrated, she shook her head and decided to analyse it later - after breakfast. She chose to walk directly from her room to the Great Hall; for some reason she felt confident she would not run into the Head Boy in their study this morning, although she moved at something approaching an undignified sprint between her bedroom and the outside door.

When she entered the Hall a loud cheer rose up from her table, and she flushed, elusive images of muscular arms and soft caresses popping up in front of her eyes again. Luckily it soon became clear that their admiration was rather for the whole of last night's entertainment than one specific incident. More guilt, for it really had been all down to Malfoy, and in retrospect she recognised that she had made little contribution other than to show up and dance with lots of boys. But no point in telling the Gryffindors that; they would never believe any good of the Head Boy anyway.

'Actually, it was mostly Malfoy's idea,' she said as she sat down beside Dean Thomas, with her back to the Slytherin table. There was a round of accompanying snorts which Hermione hardly heard as she berated herself for speaking in his defense when she had absolutely and totally decided she wouldn't do so. Apparently even her voice wasn't under her own command any more. She glared at her cereal as if it alone had caused her indiscretion.

She was still brooding over her imperfect recollection of the night before when Harry, Ron and Ginny arrived together at the table. Ron poked Dean between the shoulder blades encouraging him to move along so that he could sit beside Hermione. Harry and Ginny settled opposite and after a quick compliment on the success of the evening, Harry cleared his throat and announced, 'Well, now that the fun's over, we have to knuckle down! We're playing Slytherin next Saturday, the opening game of the tournament.'

Hermione sighed. There was nothing better guaranteed to bring a body back to earth with a bump than Quidditch. It also meant she would get no sensible conversation from the three of them this week; but close on the heels of that thought, she realised whom Harry had said their opponents were to be. So far she had managed to avoid attending any of the pre-season games despite it being generally expected of the Head students to visibly support all extra-curricular activities, and had therefore been spared the temptation of Malfoy in leather. It was still early in the year and both teams had only played one friendly game each and had won that one. The season opener was one game she had no hope of missing.

'I've been watching the Slytherins closely this year,' Harry continued. 'I have to say that Malfoy has put together a very tight team. He's completely overhauled the style of previous years; the other Captains preferred to rely on muscle and sheer size for intimidation tactics. I know that last year Malfoy went with that approach, but with two of his goons leaving, he's taken the opportunity to streamline the team, and it seems to be working.'

Ron and Ginny were absorbing their Captain's insights. Dean and Seamus were also leaning closer to Harry, hanging onto his every word although neither of them was on the team. Hermione considered leaving them to get on with it; after her disturbing dream about the previous night's events, she really didn't want to sit in the middle of a crowd of people whose chosen topic of conversation was an analysis of the one person causing all of her current paranoia. However, Ron's hand rubbing gently over her knee prevented her escape, and held her captive to Harry's pre-games dissection of the Slytherin Captain.

'He had days of tryouts for this years team,' Ginny inserted a this juncture. 'The Snitchers were up at the crack of dawn for nearly a whole week -'

'The what?' Hermione couldn't help the question; she knew Quidditch wasn't her forte, but she had never heard that word used before. 'What's a Snitcher? Is that a new kind of position?'

There was a moment of silence as the others processed her question, followed by gales of laughter. Ron hugged her suddenly to his side. 'That's my Hermione!' he managed to gasp through his mirth. 'Thank Merlin you're not one of them!'

Hermione scowled. They were making so much fuss she was sure people at other tables were all looking at her.

Ginny was also glaring at her brother, and kicked him under the table. 'Hermione, it's a kind of nickname for Quidditch groupies. Those girls who just hang around the locker rooms- you know, the ones who only want to be seen with the sports players,' she explained, and Hermione had a sudden flash of Luna and Amber in the potions corridor the day that all this mess started. Obviously Ginny was thinking of the same incident, and she shook her head at Hermione. 'No, much worse than that!' she exclaimed. 'I've had anonymous owls threatening hexes and all kinds of obscene things from Harry's fan club -'

'What?' Harry spun around and fixed a shocked look on his girlfriend. 'You never said anything to me about that!'

'That's because I can deal with it myself, Harry,' Ginny replied with a roll of her eyes. 'Do you honestly think I can't sort out a few sexually frustrated witches when I've spent my life with six older brothers? Get a grip, Harry; you just concentrate on winning us the cup and leave me to deal with the fans.'

Harry grunted but his annoyance subsided noticeably. Hermione thought it sweet how totally under Ginny's thumb he was; he had been required to protect everyone in their world for so long, but just knowing that Ginny was there to take care of the little details had grounded him no end. He had been so much more relaxed and lighthearted in the nine months since they became a couple. His sudden bursts of temper and retreats into brooding were few and far between these days, and Hermione was happy for both of them. They complimented each other so well.

'Ok, then,' he said.' Gin is in charge of keeping the fans away from me.' He looked at Hermione and winked, 'Guess it'll be your turn next then, having to fight off Ron's rabid fans!' He grinned at her while Ron choked on his pumpkin juice and cast a wild glance around the Great Hall as if fearing the sudden appearance of hordes of Quidditch-obsessed females. Despite having been on the team for two years now, Ron still tended to doubt his own ability, another crime which could be laid directly at Malfoy's door. His dreadful ditty composed at the beginning of 5th year, which had resulted in Harry and the twins being banned from Quidditch, had undermined Ron's self confidence to such a degree that even now, two years later, it still hadn't recovered.

How could she ever forget behaviour like that? How could she honestly be feeling the things that she undoubtedly was for a person who had lied, cheated, sneaked and manipulated his way through the past six years of their schooling. How could she have sunk into his arms last night as if she was coming home, (and somehow she knew this had happened), when he was Draco Malfoy, author of all their worst experiences. Damn, she was in trouble.

'So, I've been privately watching Slytherin practice,' Harry continued. Ron, Hermione and Ginny correctly took this to mean that he had been sneaking around at their practice sessions under his invisibility cloak, gathering information. They had been joined now by Alex Taylor, a 5th year and one of the new Beaters, who was eager to get out on the pitch and prove himself. 'Malfoy's got them under a very tight control this year. No girls on the team as usual, but the new players seem very focused, and fast. They are fliers, not thugs. We'll have to be very careful not to expect the same type of intimidation tactics that we have been used to seeing from Slytherin in the past.

'Much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy is a bloody good Captain. I know we all like to think he bought his way onto the team with those brooms back in 2nd year, but five years of going head to head with him has forced me to admit that he knows what he's doing in the air. And you've got to admit he has the whole of Slytherin house eating out of the palm of his hand. He says jump, they ask How High? He's even dropped those two muscle bound Neanderthals he keeps around for protection from the team, and it appears they went without a murmur.'

Hermione frowned, thinking of what Pansy had unwittingly revealed earlier in the term about the nature of Malfoy's relationship with Crabbe and Goyle, and wondered if she should mention it to Harry. But to do so would open a writhing great can of flobberworms and could possibly lead down avenues she had no desire to travel with Ron present.

Harry continued, 'When he thinks he's alone with his team he's actually quite a charismatic leader,' Ginny nodded thoughtfully, remembering his manner during the prefect meetings prior to Halloween, which Harry had not been privy to. 'But,' Harry paused, sweeping his glance over everyone who was listening. 'He wants to annihilate us. That's the whole reason for this revamp of the Slytherin team. He's out for Gryffindor blood. It's his last year to beat us at anything, and I'm telling you, he's manic! Right! Pitch is booked from noon till two, I am trying to get something squeezed in at least every other day up until the match. So I expect to see you outside at midday. We need to focus here. If Malfoy is as determined as I think, he'll be watching us too, looking for weaknesses, anything he can exploit during the game for Slytherin's benefit!'

Hermione shivered as the others dispersed from the table. 'You'll come and watch the practice won't you, Mione?' Ron asked, but Hermione's mind was focused on something else entirely.

'Ron,' she asked carefully, 'Did you enjoy yourself last night?' The more pressing matter of discovering whether she had dreamt her encounter with Malfoy took precedence over everything including Quidditch.

Ron flushed and she knew he was thinking instead about her impulsive question just before Malfoy interrupted them, and she braced herself for an uncomfortable conversation. She was surprised when it never materialized. Ron stroked the back of her hand absentmindedly and seemed to be searching for the right words to express to Hermione what appeared to be preying on his mind. Hermione suddenly realised that he might be more worried that his answer could be upsetting for her than he was over the fact of Malfoy's getting some ammunition out of it. Which gave Hermione her answer without any words of his behalf. She felt strangely ambivalent about it; more surprised than hurt. More curious as to how there had been an opportunity when the three of them were so rarely apart, than upset at the fact.

However, it seemed that in some kind of weird male solidarity type of mentality, that as a girl was incomprehensible to her, Ron would only have been embarrassed by Malfoy's overhearing her question, had the answer been yes. Apparently some primal male bonding ritual extended even to members of Slytherin rather than one's actual girlfriend, if they were the only Y chromosome in the immediate vicinity.

She wondered if she should take pity on Ron, and let him off the hook, but some secret calculating Slytherinish part of her was enjoying the fact that, for this single moment in time, she was not the only one being wracked by feelings of guilt.

'Mione, the thing is - you see. What you were asking about last night -' Ron began, stammering over his explanation, and suddenly gripped her hands so tightly she felt that bones might be in danger of getting crushed.

'No.' He said finally and simply, unable to prevaricate in the face of her regard, and she gave what she hoped was an encouraging and non-judgmental smile. 'It wasn't anyone from school, Mione,' he rushed on obviously trying to salvage a potentially bad situation, but not knowing exactly how to do so. 'It was back before I ever hoped you would think of me in that way -'

'Ron,' Hermione tried to interrupt his flow, but he shut his eyes and shook his head.

'No, Mione, I want to get it all out or I might lose my nerve. It was last Christmas when we went to visit Bill in Egypt, and I met her at the campsite -'

'Ron,' Hermione interrupted firmly. 'It's okay, really. I neither want nor need details. You have nothing to feel guilty about,' unlike me 'I was only expecting a simple yes or no answer, and now I have that. Let's move on.'

Immediately she regretted her choice of words, for Ron's eyes lit up with hope and she realised exactly where he wanted to move to. 'Oh, Ron,' she sighed. 'Not quite yet, Ok?' He deflated quickly, nodding resignedly, and on impulse she reached over and guided his mouth to hers. She was usually careful to avoid overtly public displays of affection, but she felt so bad about her recent behaviour and her inability to commit to something more physical with Ron that she simply acted on impulse.

When Ron finally released her and took her hand out to walk her out of the Hall, she found herself suddenly face to face with the last person she wanted to see. Malfoy was glaring at them from the doorway looking absolutely furious. Ron scowled back and gripped her hand even tighter, convincing her that he hadn't been as accepting of last night's events as he had seemed.

Draco stared hard at them until they drew level with him and at the very last possible moment stepped out of the way, forcing eye contact with Hermione as they passed. He looked just like she felt, she thought; confused, angry and afraid. She felt panic welling up inside her at the thought that perhaps it had been more than a dream, but almost before she could recognise the emotions on his face, his habitual sneer dropped back into place and he settled for sweeping his glance over Ron's fuming countenance before turning his back on them and heading for his own table.

Hermione found that, brief though the encounter was, it had left her shaking and brought back all the worries she had been able to repress whilst surrounded by people concentrating on other issues. It was mid-morning Sunday, and yesterday - before the Halloween Ball - Hermione had planned to spend the time working on a progress report for the Herbology project, which Pansy Parkinson had abandoned any pretence of interest in when Hermione sent her off with a flea in her ear about spying. The Venis had grown alarmingly, and waved its viny tendrils at Hermione in a most threatening manner whenever she opened the box to feed it.

Now, given her distracted mental state, Hermione decided that it would be unwise to spend a couple of hours with a poisonous, aggressive plant. That was how accidents happened. She opened the box and dropped a few dried grasshoppers inside, then shut the lid quickly as the Venis began rustling its vines together in manner that almost sounded like whispering.

Of course, now that she wasn't actually working, her subconscious gleefully began sending her images of things which she couldn't believe had really happened last night. She could hear a song playing in her head, one she had at home in her cd collection. But she would never be able to hear it in the same way again; now she would always associate it with Malfoy, with his hard, athlete's body wrapped around hers as they drifted slowly across the Great Hall lost to the rest of the world.

She could still smell him, feel the imprint of his hands on her back , the caress of his fingers as he traced little circles at the base of her spine. She thought, but was not entirely certain that he had even kissed the top of her head. She knew she had laid her head against his shoulder and thought, to Hell with everything, as she did so. She had danced with one arm tight around his waist, and the other pressed against his chest directly over his heart, entranced by the accelerated thumping.

I can feel the magic floating in the air;

surely it had written expressly for them, for the halls and corridors of Hogwarts itself. Of course, she knew that it hadn't; the singer was an American Muggle - but if not, then it could not have been a coincidence that it was the last song of the evening, and that she and Malfoy had been expected to dance to it.Something had definitely happened last night, and there had been magic involved; more than just the magic of one man's chemistry with one woman. There had been an interference. Hermione was suddenly as sure of this as she was of her own name; that was the only possible excuse for none of the other students mentioning it this morning.

Oh, Merlin! So then, she had danced with Draco Malfoy liked she wanted to crawl inside his body and never leave; and if she had reached this conclusion, it was a fair assumption that Draco would not be far behind. She may have hated him for years (before you decided to fall in lust with him, taunted the voice,) but she had never underestimated his intelligence, which was second only to hers. Malfoy would work out soon that she had clung to him like a - a Snitcher! last night and her pathetic crush would be exposed.

Dear God, who could have created such a distortion spell? Who could have interfered with the course of the celebration in such a manner and remain undiscovered. Who already knew her shameful secret?


	15. Chapter 15

Slytherin had the pitch booked from 2.00 to 4.oo that afternoon, directly after Gryffindor finished, but Draco was in no mood for Quidditch. His night had been disturbed by uncomfortable dreams; dreams which felt so real he could hardly believe they weren't actual memories. Strange and worrying dreams in which he had been drifting around the dance floor in full view of both their Houses with Hermione Granger entwined in his arms so closely that not even a breath of air could have penetrated between them.

Stranger still was the impression that she had been there willingly - happily even. He closed his eyes and he could still feel the heat of her, the weight of her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, himself breathing in the scent of her hair and Merlin help him if he was not mistaken, his own lips brushing feather light imperceptible kisses onto the top of her head.

He could almost have convinced himself it was a dream, for there had been many dreams about the Head Girl lately; except for the fact that it felt totally different. His dreams had without exception been erotic and highly sexual in nature, always resulting in his waking to find he had come in the night all over himself and the bed. This had felt less physical, more emotional - romantic? - He definitely remembered being aroused, but the prevailing impression was of tenderness and happiness. But yet, it had to have been a dream for he knew if he had been seen holding the Gryffindor Head Girl in the manner he thought he recalled, the fallout today would have made the war against Grindelwald look like a Wizards Tea Party.

For a start, Pansy would be trying to hex his balls off, and Merlin! he really needed to get rid of her bloody charm; if he could just get his stupid head to focus on something that wasn't Granger for five minutes at a time!

However, there was nothing. No reaction at all; so much so that he was forced to concede that he must have imagined it after all. Yet it had felt so real.

But the thing which eventually convinced him it was all in his imagination was the sight which met him as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast, of Granger sitting at the Gryffindor table in broad daylight snogging that awful red head.

He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Weasley would have been lining up right behind Pansy to emasculate him had he been actually engaged in the romantic dance he'd imagined for himself and Granger last night. The youngest Weasley boy had the typical red-head's volatile and unpredictable temper, and without remorse, Draco knew he had continuously and deliberately provoked the boy over the past six years, starting way back on the train their very first day of school. Weasley undoubtedly hated Draco more than anyone else in the whole school, maybe even the whole world. Draco knew he would need next to no excuse to take him on. Hell, he had been itching for a reason to flatten the irritating brat for years. But everything had changed now - because of her. He knew he couldn't do anything to the Weasel if he ever wanted a chance with Granger. Merlin, she would probably expect them to become friends!

That the thought that he would even consider doing such a thing for her had even occurred to him made his stomach roil, and his face twisted into a disbelieving grimace which was still fixed there when they disentangled themselves and headed towards the doors, walking straight by him. Weasley sneered at him as they passed, but Granger only glanced briefly at him before dropping her glance to her shoes and scuttling after Weasley like a frightened rabbit.

Draco was still pondering over that odd expression on Granger's face when he headed out towards the Quidditch pitch towards the end of the Gryffindor practice session. He didn't need to watch their practices to know they were good. Slytherin just needed to be better this year, and he thought that for once they just might be, this time.

Of course she was there, sitting studying on the bench outside the Gryffindor changing rooms, no doubt waiting for the Weasel to be finished, and he hated the squirmy feeling he got in his chest as he watched her curly head bent over her books. This was getting worse, not better.

Her head shot up from her studies suddenly as if she could feel his eyes on her, and they stared intently at each other for a moment until a shout from Potter, high overhead, broke the connection, and Draco strode away into his team's broom store.

Hermione glared at the ground, cursing every swear word she knew. Damn, she really hadn't needed to see him in his uniform today, on top of all the uncertainty about last night! She wondered why seeing Ron in his uniform didn't turn her brain to mush the way the sight of Draco did. Might be something to do with the colour; Gryffindor's red and gold seemed to clash with Ron's hair more than compliment it, as the green and silver of the Slytherin team seemed to emphasize Malfoy's bright blond hair and match his silvery eyes.

And as he stalked past her and made his way towards the Slytherin locker rooms, she was treated to the vision of his perfectly rounded backside walking away from her; that was another thing Ron didn't have. His arse was kind of flat, and he certainly didn't fill out his Quidditch pants front or rear in the way that Malfoy did. Hermione smacked her hands to her flaming cheeks. Oh Merlin, tell me I wasn't just checking out Malfoy's equipment, she thought panicked. But of course, she couldn't tell herself any such thing because she had been, and it had appeared to be a very impressive sight indeed!

Granger was gone when Draco emerged from the store room with his broom and the Slytherin set of Quidditch balls; they made it a rule never to practice with the school equipment. Marcus Flint had been paranoid (probably with good reason, given the dirty tactics he often employed in games) that someone would hex the school balls to attack one of his players, and had obtained a House set which was passed ceremoniously from Captain to Captain from then onwards. Draco was the third Captain to use the Slytherin Quidditch set.

He was glad of her absence; the thought of flying with her right there watching made him nervous and he was sure he would make some stupid mistake being too distracted by her presence. He would have to find some way of overcoming that before the match next weekend, because there was no way the Gryffindor Head Girl would not be at a game to support her team against the Slytherin Head Boy's team. Even if she never saw another game in the whole of the 7th year, this was the one she would attend.

The rest of the team was milling around waiting for the Gryffindor Captain to vacate the pitch; Potter was whipping around quickly trying to move on the ever present gaggle of Quidditch groupies who gathered at all these events. Draco had never seen him bother with these girls before and wondered idly why he cared today. Finally Potter dropped to the ground not far from where Draco was standing and sighed in frustration pushing his messy black hair out of his eyes. Catching Draco's eye, Potter grumbled, 'I don't know how you cope with them, Malfoy. People should be watching the game, not lusting after the players!'

To say Draco was surprised at this foray into civilized conversation from Harry Potter would have been an understatement, but he did feel a certain solidarity with the other man on the subject in hand. 'Got to learn to ignore them, PotHead,' he replied cheerfully. 'And if you can't do that, I always find sending them an incontinence hex works wonders!'

He enjoyed the startled expression on Scarhead's face, and found that the odd interaction had strangely lifted his spirits for the practice. He kicked off into the air with renewed enthusiasm, and began directing plays and strategies with an evil grin on his handsome features.

**********************

After a harsh two hours of practice and a long hot shower, Draco was again in the Great Hall, watching the Gryffindor table as if compelled to. She was there of course, at the head of the table, speaking occasionally to students who approached her, and writing in a little book at her side. Draco noticed that students from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff also came to her and she made the occasional note in her book as they talked which led Draco to believe it was an appointment book of sorts. Since the beginning of term he had seen only people in Slytherin about their problems and issues, and now watching all the other houses scuttling over to Granger's side, he actually wondered if there really was a necessity to unite the houses more as Dumbledore kept lecturing. Historically, Slytherin had always been self sufficient, never needing interaction with the other Houses, but was that the way it should be? Bugger me, he thought, I'm becoming a grown up!

Draco watched as Granger rose to leave the Hall alone, and when neither of the sidekicks made any sign of getting up to follow her, he pushed his plate away and stood up. Maybe he should discuss his strange new theory with her; Greg and Vince made as if to stand also, but he directed them back to their seats with a sharp shake of his head. He couldn't possibly have them trailing along behind him when what he was doing was so incomprehensible, so foreign to the whole Slytherin credo that he couldn't even explain it to himself.

He knew that this sick and unnatural obsession with the Head Girl had to stop and stop soon or it would start to become dangerous. How had he been reduced to this; finding any pathetic excuse to follow her so he could be near her.

He caught sight of Hermione leaving through the main doors to the castle, and fastening his robes to keep the cool night air out, he followed her at a discreet distance. He really had no idea why he was following her - whether he intended to catch up at some point and actually discuss this with her, maybe ask her what she thought had happened last night? - or if he was simply going to watch her from a distance. He was going with his instincts on this and seeing where they led.

It seemed they were leading to the Quidditch pitch tonight, and he was perplexed to see her enter the Gryffindor stands and climb up to the benches. He knew enough about Granger to know she was not a flier, and her interest in Quidditch was restricted to House games where she could watch the Boy-who-lived-to-humiliate him catch the snitch out from under his nose yet again. Yet here she was for the second time today. What would bring her up to the stands in the dark? Not an assignation with the Weasel, surely, for he had stayed unconcernedly chewing as she left. Draco didn't think he could cope with witnessing another romantic interlude between that disgusting red head and his brilliant, beautiful Hermione. Oh, God, I am so screwed, he thought.

However, it appeared that she was genuinely taking nothing more than an evening stroll. When she reached the benches she chose a position fairly central, a couple of rows back from the edge of the stand as would befit someone nervous of heights and unskilled at flying, and settled herself down to watch the stars. Draco had always thought the stars seemed bigger and brighter over Hogwarts than anywhere else in the world he had ever seen them. He often wondered if it was another product of Dumbledore's own special magic. It just figured that Hermione apparently appreciated them also. Could he not discover anything about her that would make her seem less rather than more desirable in his eyes?

Draco remained concealed in the shadows at the top of the steps in case she had something else in mind, but after about ten minutes he was forced to admit that it seemed all Hermione had wanted was exactly what she had achieved. He had one foot poised to walk towards her, when he heard the whooshing sound of a broom in flight, and spied Harry Potter swoop around the Quidditch pitch once before coming to a halt hovering in front of Hermione's position; but even this didn't seem to be a pre-arranged meeting.

'Hey, Mione,' Harry said. 'What are you doing up here all on your own?'

'Oh, nothing much,' she replied in what seemed to Draco to be a wistful tone of voice. 'I just felt restless and thought I'd take a walk. This is where I ended up.'

Restless? That described so completely the feelings that Draco was having that he almost gave himself away. He felt - twitchy. Restless and twitchy, like he didn't belong in his own skin, and he knew exactly when it had started. It went back to that afternoon in the alcove with Pansy; when he had closed his eyes and seen Hermione Granger for what felt like the first time in his life.

It had just been escalating lately, and the Halloween Ball last night had been just about the last straw. He knew something had happened last night, but why couldn't he remember exactly what it was? He just knew that he needed to see more of her; he wanted to talk to her about other things than infernal prefect duties!

They shared most of their 7th year classes and he wanted to walk with her as they changed classrooms and ask her opinion on the homework they had just been given. He wanted to hear what she thought about his victory over the Ravenclaw team in their friendly game. He wanted to get her impressions of the paper he was doing for his Muggle Studies project. He wanted her to be a part of his world, and he wanted to be in hers. And this was the craziest in a string of idiotic plans to get her to notice him. Stalking her out to the heart of Gryffindor central and spying on her. She was more likely to hex him than hug him.

'What are you doing out here in the dark on a broom?' Hermione asked Potter curiously. She didn't like flying when she could see what she was doing. It was an anathema to her that anyone would choose to do such a thing in the dark for fun. 'Haven't you done enough flying for one day?'

Harry winked at her. 'I was feeling a little restless myself,' he said. 'Ginny will be out in a minute. We're just going to do some laps. Plus we do have to obliterate Slytherin next weekend. Got to keep on our toes!' Draco ground his teeth at this blatant propaganda.

'Oh,' Hermione said in understanding. 'Do you want me to go?'

'No, of course not,' Harry replied. 'I mean, we're just going to fly up and down a few times. Clear out the cobwebs. Stay and watch; we don't see enough of you these days.'

As he was speaking they heard the unmistakable swish of another broom and Ginny ascended to hover beside Harry. 'Hey, Mione, fancy seeing you here!' she remarked. 'I think Ron was looking for you after dinner. Won't imagine coming to look here, though!'

Hermione sighed. 'I'll go and find him in a bit,' she said. 'I just needed some fresh air. You go on with your training and I'll watch for a while.'

Draco watched as the Gryffindor seeker and chaser flew off and began a silly game of broom tag around the goal hoops. His mood had darkened with the reminder of Ron Weasley, who had all the rights and freedoms with Hermione that he wanted for himself.

Jealousy of the red head prompted him to move out of the shadows of the staircase and come forward to sit a few rows behind and to the left of Hermione, muttering an incantation which he had found useful over the years. It was a kind of illusion spell which projected an image of what should be in a place instead of what actually was there. In this case it made the Gryffindor stands appear as rows of empty benches. He may have lost his mind coming here and following Granger, but he was damned if he would advertise the fact to Pothead and the She-Weasel.

'Granger,' he greeted and was gratified to see her jump. She had obviously genuinely had no idea he was following her. She bounced almost a foot off the bench and put a hand to her chest.

'Malfoy,' she hissed. 'You idiot! You scared the wits out of me! What do you want?' Her heart was racing from the shock of someone creeping up behind her, but also from the realisation of who that person was.

'Just being sociable, Granger,' he answered, and she glared at him whilst trying to control the frantic jumping of her pulse, and silence the gleeful voice in the back of her head which was yelling It's him. He's behind you - he's talking to you!! He had been occupying so many of her thoughts recently, and suddenly he was here. With her. In the least likely place to find the Slytherin Head Boy on the whole of the school grounds.

Scared of her reactions to him, Hermione became more defensive. 'What are you up to Malfoy?' she demanded, going on the attack. 'This is the Gryffindor stand. What business can you possibly have here? If Harry sees you -' As though her words had conjured him, Harry appeared suddenly in front of the stand, a frown on his face.

'Hah!' Hermione exclaimed, vindicated, but Harry didn't respond, and momentarily Ginny joined him, her broom hovering top to tail against his.

"Hermione left,' Harry said to her. 'She didn't even say goodbye.'

Hermione spun around to glare at Draco again. 'What spell did you do?' she hissed. 'Take it off immediately, whatever it was!'

Draco smirked; he was enjoying the sight of Granger flushed and annoyed. She had spent most of the past six years glaring at him in just such a manner, and he marveled that he had only just realized how gorgeous she was when she was mad at him. Everyone else saw her as coolly remote and controlled, but Draco was willing to bet anything that underneath that prim scholarly exterior she presented to the world was possibly the most wildly passionate witch in the school. And she certainly boiled over around him!

'Draco Malfoy, you pay attention!' she snapped taking a few steps towards him, as she watched his eyes glaze over with some private thought he was having. Draco was reminded of the occasion in their 3rd year when she had slapped him in defense of Hagrid.

He was just about to answer her when a movement from the pair of flyers caught the corner of his eye and momentarily distracted him from his fantasies of Hermione. His mouth fell open; he knew it had, but it was totally beyond his motor control. Hermione took one look at the expression on his face and spun around to see what had so totally distracted his attention from her, and immediately wished she hadn't.

Obviously believing themselves to be alone, Harry and Ginny were indulging themselves in a bit of post-training relaxation. Ginny had brought her broom up parallel to Harry's, and was currently leaning over, engaged in a scalding hot liplock with her boyfriend. Harry had his hands in her hair either side of her head holding her in place, and Ginny's hands were in his robes presumably freeing buttons and zips.

Draco was stunned. He had always imagined Potter to be too whiny and prissy, too woe-is-me, to get his hands dirty on a woman. He knew that Potter hung out with the Weasley girl, but had always imagined it to be far more platonic than the rest of the school thought; more holding hands and hugging than actual sex. He had even wondered if Potter didn't swing the other way and was using Ginny Weasley as a front to put the rabid fans off the truth - Merlin only knew those Weasleys would do anything for Wonder Boy.

He did not much appreciate being proved wrong in such a graphic manner.

It was like watching the proverbial train wreck, though. You didn't want to see, but you couldn't look away. Draco found his eyes swinging between Potter and the She-Weasel totally without his permission. Hermione was also staring; although she had her hands over her face he could see that her fingers were parted. She looked embarrassed; mortified even, but not at all surprised. So this was not something new after all.

They broke apart briefly and Potter helped Ginny to straddle both of their brooms facing him, looping their legs around each others for balance. They returned to kissing, all the time undressing each other as far as possible whilst still keeping on their robes and balancing fifty feet off the ground. Potter finally began to lower Ginny backwards until she was laying along both broom sticks and Draco caught a glimpse of her breasts with their pointed pink nipples, glowing milky white in the moonlight before Potter was covering her with his robes as he kissed his way down her body. Her fiery red hair tumbled downwards towards the ground below, spreading over the shaft of Harry's Firebolt and the brush of her own school broom, waving gently in the light evening breeze.

Draco ventured another quick look at Hermione to see if this was affecting her also, and saw that she too could not look away. She was panting slightly, and had opened her robes to cool herself down; he thought that as her chest rose and fell quickly he could see that her nipples were hard also and pushing against her white cotton T shirt. The tantalizing hint of Granger's arousal did a million times more for his own libido than anything Potter and Weasley were getting up to, and he felt his own erection swelling urgently.

He looked back reluctantly at Potter and his paramour, and reached a sudden realisation as to why the girl had come flying tonight in a skirt. At first he had thought it was simply because she was a Weasley and therefore clueless, but it seemed she was actually quite cunning after all, for Potter was currently sliding his hands up her thighs and pushing her skirt up as he went, until he reached his goal, and with a sudden tug, ripped her panties off and shoved them into his pocket. Draco could see his fingers busy within the folds of her sex, caressing amongst the copper red curls, and within moments she was moaning and thrusting upwards, whimpering Potter's name with exhortations to hurry up!

When he seemed finally content that he had tormented her enough, Harry removed his fingers from between her legs and bringing them up to his mouth, deliberately sucked them clean. Draco was forced to admit that Pothead had far more ingenuity than he would ever have given him credit for. He was reluctantly admiring the Gryffindor's technique when he heard an almost silent whimper from the girl beside him; his own Gryffindor, and shot another glance at Granger. She was staring fixedly at the sky and panting quietly.

Draco reluctantly turned back to the couple in front of him; Granger was much more erotic to him at the moment, but he had to see if they were going to take this to its natural conclusion. Even as he watched, Potter lifted Ginny up and treated both Draco and Hermione to a brief sight of his erection, (and bugger it all if Potter wasn't blessed in that department as well!) as he maneuvered Ginny down onto himself, and began thrusting slowly inside her. Their broomsticks swayed gently with their movements, but stayed almost stationary, even as Draco could see them both rushing towards their climax.

Ginny peaked first, tossing her head backwards and moaning out Harry's name in hoarse tones. Harry followed moments later, burying his face in her breasts and grunting some primitive noises that couldn't be defined as actual words.

Draco and Hermione were still frozen in the exact same positions they had been when this started, and neither seemed able to initiate movement until the couple above the Quidditch field stirred from their embrace and began redressing each other amidst giggles and sporadic kisses.

Sucking a large calming breath into her lungs, Hermione turned towards Draco and walked up next to him. She stopped beside the bench he was still frozen to, and leant down so that her hot breath tickled his neck as she whispered directly into his ear.

'And that, Malfoy, is why you will never beat Harry to the snitch,' she breathed stirring the fine silky hairs at the nape of his neck. 'You will never have control like that over your broom!'

Draco barely heard her words - he was too distracted by her sheer proximity - her scent, the moist heat of her breath; those erect nipples mere inches from his mouth. And in that one moment, Draco Malfoy willingly took the leap from solid ground into the Abyss.

His right hand shot up, gripping the back of Hermione's neck, and as she murmured her taunts into his ear, he pulled her head round until her mouth was covering his, and now there was no turning back. She was unsuspecting and therefore totally open to him. His tongue plunged inwards, finding hers as if they were magnetically polarized. His lips moved over hers and it was awkward, their teeth bumped together, and had he been capable of formulating thoughts he would have been ashamed by his performance. But as it was, Hermione Granger's mouth was the best thing he had ever tasted. He wanted to devour her whole, he wanted to kiss her forever, he wanted...her. It was that simple and that complicated.

He had found the rhythm now, his lips caressing hers, his tongue delving into every hidden recess of her mouth, running along the edge of her teeth, and curling around her own, but still she wasn't close enough. She would never be close enough until he had absorbed her into his body, his blood, until he was inside of her in the same way she was part of him now. He tugged her towards him; so far she had been frozen in place, no part of her body touching him except the heat of her mouth against his own, but now she overbalanced and her hands shot out in an instinctive motion to prevent her fall.

And what she caught to steady her tumble was inevitably Draco's erection, which by now was tenting his uniform trousers and throbbing in need. He was totally incapable of holding in the moan of ecstasy that escaped his throat into her mouth as her hand landed on him and gripped hold. The sound started deep in his balls and worked its way up through his whole body to escape into her mouth, whilst his hips thrust upwards totally instinctively and beyond any hope of his control.

Unfortunately, the sound brought her to her senses, and with a gasp of shock she leapt backwards from him, a hand clamped over her mouth and her eyes so wide with shock they seemed to fill her whole face up.

She took one quick uncontrollable glance at his groin, and fled as if all the Dementors in Azkaban were snapping at her heels, and Draco was left frozen in position, his brain simply unable to send any orders to his body.

Finally, involuntary muscle spasms caused his lungs to suck in air, and his other motor functions returned with it. He began shaking, reaction was setting in and it was mostly disbelief. Oh, he had probably had some vague idea at the back of his head when he first followed her from the Great Hall that at some point - sometime soon even - kissing would happen, but he could never in his wildest imaginings have ever predicted the events of the last hour.

Who could have imagined that Saint Potter could be so imaginative or erotic on a broom stick? Or that he and the Head Girl would be forced by his own meddling to be voyeurs as they had sex fifty feet in the air? Would he himself be capable of recreating that same scenario?

But what he wanted to think about most was that kiss he had stolen from her and when he would be able to do it again.


	16. Chapter 16

The events of Sunday night left Hermione in a state which was bordering on hysteria; if she had thought she was a nervous wreck before, it was nothing compared to the panic and nausea which was churning in her stomach after what had happened last night. All her unease over the fact that she could not remember whether she had or had not danced with the Head Boy at the Feast, paled into insignificance when compared to the absolute and devastating truth that she had kissed him on Sunday. And she had no doubts in her mind about that.

On Monday, she considered for the first time in her life the possibility of cutting classes because she was scared to be in the same room as another person. She had two out of four classes with Malfoy today, and although she finally forced herself to attend; she refused to look up from her text book, unless it was to stare at the board. But she thought she could feel his eyes boring into her back from his usual seat several rows behind her.

In Professor McGonagall's class they were finishing up a four session project on practical transfiguration, where they were learning the best objects to alter into survival necessities should they be stranded during a battle. Despite the peaceful summer and autumn months so far; the possibility of War was still high in everyone's mind.

Hermione had been working with Neville as usual, but as they handed in their final reports and she tried to escape quickly, Professor McGonagall called the whole class to a halt. She announced that they would be commencing a new project in their next class and that she would be assigning working partners, so not to assume their regular seating arrangements.

For some reason, Hermione felt her toes curl up at this news, and when she chanced a glance at Professor McGonagall she found the older woman's gaze resting right on her, and she was wearing a twinkle to rival Dumbledore's. Hermione swallowed a sudden huge lump in her throat, unsure of why she was so unnerved by this news, or her Professor's regard, but she felt as though tiny little hairs all over her body were standing on end and hissing danger, danger right in the front of her mind.

Harry and Ron seemed concerned about her at lunch, for she had no appetite at all, just pushing her food around her plate listlessly. Seamus accidentally knocked her shoulder as he walked away from his place further down the table, and she fairly jumped out of her seat in alarm until he stopped and apologized, giving her an odd look as she subsided back onto the bench breathing heavily.

Ron took her hand as they walked to their next class; Care of Magical Creatures, and Hermione thanked Merlin that this was one class she no longer had to worry about seeing Malfoy in. He had dropped it as soon as it was academically possible to do so. His unflattering opinion of Hagrid's abilities was well known.

Hermione also did not need the class, but was too concerned about hurting Hagrid's feelings to drop it, and just now she was relieved that she hadn't, because what she needed now was something not particularly taxing so that she could devote all her energies to panicking.

Harry sped up as they approached Hagrid's hut. This was still one of his favourite places to be at Hogwarts even after seven years, and he always liked to push on ahead so as to have some time for talking to Hagrid before the rest of the class arrived. As they watched Harry's back disappearing over the lawns, Ron asked concernedly, 'Are you Ok, Mione? You've been very jumpy today. I swear Seamus thought you were going to take his head off just now!'

Hermione sighed, forcing her face into a smile. She would not let Draco Malfoy ruin her life. 'Yes, Ron; I'm sorry, I just didn't realise how hard it would be to do all the Head Girl stuff and still keep up my marks. It was a busy week for me.'

'I know, but you did a fantastic job. You can take some time off before you start on the next project, can't you?' Ron asked. 'I haven't seen very much of you for the last fortnight.' He caught her chin and looked seriously into her eyes as if checking for signs of exhaustion there. She managed a more realistic smile, but then he bent forward and kissed her and her heart sank into her shoes.

She broke away from him with a gasp, and stared in misery into his concerned eyes. Nothing. There had been nothing. Even the minor tingles she had been feeling before when he touched her were gone, and the unwanted memory of Malfoy's hot, experienced mouth on hers rose like a specter between them. He had kissed her for less than a minute and ruined her for ever.

'Um -' Hermione struggled to find an excuse for her withdrawal. 'People are coming,' she mumbled, avoiding his hurt gaze. "Hagrid's waiting for us.' She turned and hurried towards Hagrid's hut closely followed by Ron, but kept her eyes on the ground as they moved.

Why had he done this to her? That was the one thing she could not fathom out. She knew she had been acutely aware of him lately but his behaviour towards her had been no different from the prior year. Not as mean as the first five years, but also not any more friendly. And then this. Out of nowhere.

And then there was also that other thing. Harry and Ginny. Of course she had known in an abstract kind of way that they were in a physical relationship. The way you knew that most of the adults you speak to in the course of your life are having sex with someone at some time. But to have it displayed so graphically right in front of your eyes, was something she had certainly never needed to see. And to be forced to share the experience with Draco Malfoy; well, it was enough to send anyone over the edge.

Aside from trying to avoid looking at the Slytherin table she now also felt unable to look Harry in the eye either. When Ginny had come and sat beside him at breakfast and begun chatting to Hermione as if it was a normal Monday, she had been unable to prevent herself flushing bright red, prompting both Ron and Ginny to ask if she was sickening for something.

Trying to control her wayward emotions, Hermione forced herself to admit that for Harry and Ginny it was a normal day. They definitely had no idea of what their friend had witnessed, and it was beyond certain that she never intended them to find out.

Hermione watched Harry now as he stood talking to Hagrid, gesturing animatedly. Despite the events of last night, Hermione still found it hard to view Harry in a sexual way. There had been a brief but intense snogging session with Harry the previous Christmas when caught under some trick mistletoe in the Common Room, which had resulted in embarrassed shuffling on both their parts. Harry had gone on to find that kissing Ginny was much more to his liking in spite of Ron's growling, and that was the point at which Ginny's long-held dreams for the Boy-Who-Lived had begun to come true.

The enchanted mistletoe had disappeared speedily after that, and Hermione had always rather suspected that Ron was responsible. He might like the idea of Harry and his sister together in theory, but had been quite disturbed by the reality of them cuddling up on the sofa in the Common Room. And whilst Hermione thought the sight of them very sweet, and was happy for Harry that he had finally found the love and stability which had always been missing from his life, she had certainly never needed to see that.

Suddenly it came to her that Malfoy might not keep quiet about what he had seen, and she was horrified that she had been so caught up in her own angst that it had taken nearly half a day for the thought to occur to her. What if he decided to use it against Harry; reported him to a teacher? Used it to get him thrown off the Gryffindor team? As Head Boy it was well within his authority to report all students involved in physical relations within the confines of the school. What if he told Harry that she had been there too, and had seen everything?

And here she was back at Malfoy again. It seemed that these days her world just turned in one big circle and he was always there at the centre of it. There was no escape.

Hagrid was talking now; he seemed very excited about the occupant of the corral behind his house, but Hermione was hardly paying attention. She was back to brooding on that kiss. She couldn't even say that it had been the best kiss she'd ever received; it had been too sudden and unexpected for that. She had been bending in a physically uncomfortable position, hovering on the verge of tumbling over, and he had been stretching up too far, and her fear and the last dregs of her common sense had actually kicked in before it could develop into something deeper.

But still, it had shaken her world to the very foundations upon which it was built. If something that clumsy and unpremeditated could feel like the culmination of every single kiss she ever wanted to experience for the rest of her life, what would Malfoy be able to do to her if he was actually trying? Why was she now dreading the thought of having to kiss her actual boyfriend. How had it all gone so wrong so fast?

For once she had thought on her feet - shocked by her friend's display, she had still managed to come up with a witty (she thought) and scathing quip, and had carried through with the delivery smoothly despite her nerves. She should have been wallowing today in the knowledge that she had cut the Slytherin Quidditch Captain down to size; she should have swept away leaving him struggling for a response to her razor sharp wit. At least, that was how the episode had played out in her imagination before she had leant over to whisper in his ear, but he had taken control of the situation and turned it on her. Instead of taking her taunt to heart, he had ignored it and taken advantage of her unbalanced stance to do the last thing she would ever have predicted had she sat through every prescribed class with Professor Trelawny since the day she stormed out of Divination in the 3rd year.

It didn't seem to matter what she did, she couldn't get around it, over it or past it. It was right there blocking her path. Draco Malfoy had kissed her, and Merlin help her, she wanted him to do it again. That and more. So much more that she shuddered at the images in her head.

She felt weak just remembering what she had touched in that brief second of overbalancing, before sheer and utter panic had set in and sent her fleeing in fear. Even now, standing in the middle of the lawn looking at Hagrid's latest offering, she could feel her nipples tingling and swelling against her shirt at the memory of his hardness in her palm, and she had to press her legs together tightly to relieve the ache which had suddenly bloomed down there.

And that was it; the most tantalizing and dangerous of all the impossible questions which were racing around in her head today. The one she was most afraid to know the answer to. Had Draco Malfoy been aroused by that brief kiss, or had the rigid erection she had briefly clasped been caused by the unwitting display Harry and Ginny had put on for them? And she knew she was lost to all sense when she admitted that she would never be able to bear the knowledge if it was the latter.

***************

Draco was having a terrible day. Hermione was avoiding him as usual, but for once he was not upset by this. He actually also felt as confused as she probably was; he tried not to look at her during class, but the awareness of her presence even when he was concentrating on his books was like a constant low-level hum in the back of his mind.

He was having real trouble dealing with the events of Sunday night, and in an effort not to think about that kiss he tried to decide what he could do with the knowledge of Potty and the She-Weasel's indiscretion. To his further annoyance, he realised that the answer was - nothing. It would upset and annoy Hermione so his hands were effectively tied. Bloody, buggering Hell, he was turning into a wimp!

One stupid kiss! And he knew he hadn't even done a good job of it. The angle had been all wrong; she must have got a crick in her neck, and to top it all then he had knocked her over so that she had found out how randy she made him! No wonder she had run off like there were Dementors after her. He had probably blown any chance he might ever have with her with his dismal performance.

Oh, but he had wanted it to continue. He had never been so lost to a kiss. It had felt as though the whole world had dropped away and she was the only thing that existed in his universe. Her mouth was soft and surprised and she tasted like Heaven; when she had accidentally caught hold of his swollen cock he thought for a second that he was going to come in his trousers. But the brief touch of her hand was gone almost immediately, along with the girl herself , and he was left frozen in place unable to move or breathe.

Before his dazed eyes, Potter and Ginny Weasley had flown off to wherever Gryffindors went post-coitus and Draco, still aroused to the verge of pain, had released his throbbing penis right there in the middle of the Gryffindor stands and brought himself relief. He was so hard and sensitized that it actually hurt to touch himself, and his release took no more than two strokes of his hand, spraying out before him as he gasped the Head Girl's name.

Today, Professor Snape had assigned an extra class for the Advanced Potions group an hour after regular classes finished, probably to make up for their distraction the previous week with the preparations for the Halloween Feast. As it happened, Slytherin already had a Quidditch practice scheduled at the same time, and possibly the only person more determined than Draco to win the Cup this year was his Head of House. With this in mind, for possibly the first time in living memory, Professor Snape excused Draco from the class, with the proviso that he collected the notes from the Head Girl afterwards.

Why Professor Snape had specified Hermione Draco wasn't sure, but the thought that he now had to go and face up to her was making his stomach twist, and truth be told causing his heart to skip. He was so pathetic; no better than a thirteen year old boy in the throes of his first crush.

He made his way down to the dungeons after a quick shower; the class was an hour and a half and should be ending soon. He was trying to prepare himself to confront the Head Girl without drooling all over her robes.

He passed a couple of 7th year Ravenclaws who were also in the advanced class as they were making their way up the stone stairs from the dungeons. They nodded to him and he would have liked to stop and ask them for the class notes, except for the fact that Anthony Goldstein had been very cool towards him this year, and a healthy caution of Professor Snape would not let him disregard the Head of Slytherin's instructions.

Setting his shoulders he walked into the Potions classroom; as usual Granger was still there. She was nearly always last to leave a class, even ones where the teachers were not part of her fan club. Professor Snape was hovering by the door as if trying to hurry her on, and he almost smiled when he caught sight of Draco. 'Ah, Mr Malfoy. How was your practice?' he asked. 'Are we looking good for Saturday?'

Draco wondered why his Head of House was being so strangely jovial, and decided it must be a new intimidation technique for the Gryffindor Head Girl. 'We're looking excellent, Sir,' he replied, getting into the spirit of the idea. Let Granger go and report that to Potty and Co.

'Splendid. Just splendid,' Snape said in an oily voice. 'Miss Granger, you will inform Mr Malfoy of what he has missed during his practice today,' And with that he turned and swirled out of the classroom his robes billowing out behind him, leaving Draco and Hermione staring warily at each other. Draco swallowed and fell back on sarcasm as a defense.

'Well Granger, going to tell your little sky borne Romeo that we're on a winning streak this year?' he taunted, and was rewarded by her wary pose straightening up and her eyes snapping venom at him. He cursed his stupid mouth for running off without consulting his brain, but at least that nasty awkwardness had evaporated. Granger was staring irritably at him just as she had for most of the past six years, and he thought she looked magnificent.

'What are you smirking at, Malfoy?' she snapped; he hadn't realised his appreciation of the picture she presented, angry and pouting had caused his face to break into a bemused grin. Hermione, never having seen such an expression from him before, had immediately taken it as one of his supercilious smirks of old, whereas in fact that couldn't have been further from the truth.

' - and if you do anything to get Harry in trouble, I will make you suffer in ways you can't even begin to imagine,' Hermione was promising when Draco finally awoke from his trance, and he scowled not quite sure what she was talking about, having missed the first half of her rant whilst he fantasized on all the other things she could be doing with her mouth.

They both turned as snorting noise from outside the door intruded onto their argument, and the sound of heavy footsteps was heard receding down the hallway. Hoping to find some encouragement in the Headmaster's latest fancy, Professor Snape had remained to see how the Head students would deal with each other. Their opening remarks had validated his belief that Professor Dumbledore was hitting his head against a brick wall, and Snape had no desire to wait around until they really started hexing each other and he was forced to take points off both of them. He marched away mumbling about insane old wizards.

The distraction was only brief for Hermione; she spun back to look at him angrily and launched back into her tirade. 'I don't want to find out you said a single word about Harry and Ginny to anyone.' She hissed.

'Why Granger, what's it worth to you to make sure I keep my mouth closed?' Draco asked abruptly, wincing inside even as the words fell out of his mouth. He couldn't seem to control his wayward tongue when he was around her. He absolutely hadn't meant to say that; he had no desire to provoke her further, but it seemed like he lost all his poise lately when she was near him, confusing his head.

Hermione went white, and then in quick succession bright red. 'Why, Malfoy - you - you bastard,' she spat at him, collecting up her books angrily. 'I won't be blackmailed by the likes of you. Harry is going to squash your stupid little team at the weekend for exactly the reasons I told you on Sunday night.'

'Not so fast Granger,' Draco purred as she made to sweep by him, catching her wrist in a vise-like grip. 'I believe Professor Snape told you to pass on the assignment to me? What kind of a Head Girl would leave a fellow student struggling to complete his class work?'

He could almost see Granger grinding her teeth as she held herself rigid in his grip. 'Get it from one of the Ravenclaws,' she hissed.

They stared angrily at each other for long moments, but Draco was achingly aware of the heat of her body and the fluttering of her pulse where he held her wrist. It seemed like he had been fighting this for so long, but there was no inclination left to do so anymore. This was bigger than he was, and he couldn't even make himself care. Without his conscious direction, his fingers loosened on her arm and his thumb began rubbing small circles against her skin.

She was instantly aware of the change in him and shot a nervous glance at him, only to be confused by the expression on his face. The anger had dissipated completely leaving something which looked like a mixture of confusion and resignation on his striking features, and for some reason she also calmed.

'Fuck,' he groaned suddenly, surprising her with the Muggle curse, which was not a common wizard expletive. 'Fucking Hell, Granger!'

She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips and began, 'Malfoy? What -' but got no further for he swooped in and did it again. Kissed her. This time there was no hesitation, no awkward angles. He used her captured wrist to propel her towards him until they were plastered together, top to toe. She was still speaking and so her mouth was open when he caught it with his own, allowing his tongue to slip easily past the barrier of her teeth to play with hers. Her eyes were wide open in shock and so were his, staring straight into hers and they were hotter than she could have ever imagined steel grey eyes could get.

He secured her with an arm around her waist, his hand at the nape of her neck holding her head still so that he could ravish her mouth fully. They fitted together perfectly; it was as if Merlin had taken every line of her body and shaped her to fit against his. Draco's heart was slamming against his rib cage and he was shaking just from the touch of her hands. Kissing had never been like this before; it seemed as though time had paused around them and all he could feel was the touch of her hands and her mouth like fire on his skin.

She heard a whimper and was startled to realise that it had come from her, and oh God, where were her hands? What were they doing and why couldn't she stop? Somehow they had traveled backwards and she didn't even remember moving; her back was pressed against the stone wall behind the classroom door and she was wearing Draco Malfoy like some kind of skin tight fashion accessory. Her left hand was destroying his perfect hair and her right was clenched into the soft wool of his uniform sweater under his robes, forcing him to stay there.

Not that he was trying very hard to escape. In fact staying exactly where he was for the next forever was the only thought in his head. Kissing Hermione Granger was unlike anything he had ever experienced before; his brain had shut down and he was operating on pure feeling and it was the best feeling he had ever known. Granger made little breathy moans into his mouth as her tongue played a game of advance and retreat with his and every hitch of her breath caused their bodies to rub erotically together.

She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and nibbled it with her perfect little teeth - his own creation. He sank deeper against her body trapping her to the wall, shaking as she moved her hips and brushed against his erection. It was thrusting hot and hard against her stomach; she could be in no doubt tonight what had caused it. He had to draw back for breath and she moaned, panting in air herself as she desperately followed his mouth trying to recapture his lips, but Draco wanted to taste more of her.

He brushed light kisses over her eyelids, her nose, her chin, he trailed his lips down to her throat and sucked on the spot where her neck met her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. He reveled in all her little noises, which she seemed to be totally unaware of making. His arms clutched her fiercely to him as if he was afraid she would disappear. There wasn't a space a breath could penetrate between their bodies, and finally Hermione was able to pull his mouth back where she needed it most, devouring her own. She sucked on his tongue, drawing whimpers from the back of his own throat as she became bolder and her own tongue slipped between his lips running over the roof of his mouth, curling around his own.

He insinuated a leg between hers and lifted it slightly so that she was riding his thigh; she was so hot he thought he might incinerate from within. She began to rock gently against him and the shaking in his limbs increased. If he didn't stop himself he was going to take her right there up against the wall in the middle of the potions class.

He released her mouth slowly with a series of lingering kisses, finally resting his forehead against her own until he could regain some control of himself. Hermione pressed her face into his neck gasping as though she had run a marathon, her moist hot breath made goosebumps rise all over his body and he simply couldn't prevent the thrust of his hips against her stomach. Hermione moaned at his movement and almost imperceptibly pushed back against him. He barely heard her whispered words, 'Draco,' she sighed against his shoulder and he felt his stomach flip as she used his first name, 'What..... What - was that?' she managed.

Draco took a deep breath of her unique Hermione scent, and tried to remember how to speak. 'Well Miss Granger,' he started and his voice sounded nothing like the one she was used to hearing, it was thick and low with desire, 'We wizards call it kissing; funny, I had always thought you Muggles had the same word for it,' he teased, and Hermione envied him the ability to string words together and form actual sentences.

'That - that was not a kiss,' she managed finally, and Draco was inclined to agree. It was actually more in the way of a religious experience, and nothing in his life would ever be the same again.

'You think not? You might be right - you are the Head Girl after all,' his eyes blazed into hers and she shivered with something unnamable. 'We'd better check and make sure,' he moaned right into her mouth and she was lost again. Every inch of her body where they touched felt like it was incinerating; she felt as though he was devouring her whole and she wanted nothing more than to disappear into him and never return. She wouldn't have been surprised to find that the wall behind them bore a scorched imprint of their entwined bodies so intense was the heat between them.

He kissed her with long lingering open mouth caresses unlike anything she had ever known before. It was undeniably clear that every single word of his impressive reputation was thoroughly deserved; nothing Ron had ever done to her had come close to making her feel like this, and he had....'Oh God, Ron!' It was like a bucket of ice water over her raging hormones. Ron, who loved her and trusted her.

She had been so responsive, so involved in their fever-bright passion that Draco was totally unprepared for her to suddenly start fighting against him. She had been riding his thigh whilst his hands had been loosening her school shirt from the waistband of her skirt, and his fingers were now dancing over the bare skin of her middle. Her own hand had released its death grip on his jumper and was squeezing and relaxing on his right arse cheek urging him closer and closer to her heated centre. She had been writhing against him when suddenly she pulled backwards with another man's name on her lips.

Her face was paper white. 'Oh, Merlin, what have I done?' she moaned. By the Gods she was beautiful; her mouth red and swollen, her pupils dilated and her carefully charmed hair mussed back into the wild halo of pervious years. She looked thoroughly kissed; her blouse was hanging out of her skirt and her robes were dangling half off. She was gorgeous and he had been sure she had been as deeply involved as he, so why was she calling out Ronald Weasley's name?

The image of Ron's earnest and devoted face tormented her from the backs of her eyelids. She had managed to break the body contact with Malfoy, but she could feel an actual physical ache in her limbs from her withdrawal. She couldn't actually move yet; her legs trembled like jelly and she had an empty throbbing achy feeling, right in the center of her body which was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It almost hurt to look at him. His normally perfect hair was sticking up in a dozen different directions. His shirt like hers was hanging loose from his uniform trousers. His tie was twisted up by his right ear and he was panting as if he had run a race. His eyes, Oh Merlin she might melt into a puddle of goo on the floor from the look in his eyes.

She tried to look at the ground to avoid those eyes, but that unfortunately entailed her glaze passing over the most dangerous part of his anatomy, and her own eyes rounded as she realised he was so very aroused that the weeping tip of his massively erect penis was actually peeping out from above the waistband of his trousers. A quick and totally uncontrollable calculation of what that meant dimension-wise forced her to gasp and shut her eyes tightly against the images it produced, even while a new and uncontrollable surge of arousal flooded her already saturated knickers.

'Oh no,' Hermione moaned as he tried to pull her back into his arms. 'Ron is waiting for me,' she wailed.

'What? Where?' Draco mumbled confused as his brain cells tried to repair themselves. He looked confusedly around, staring out of the door as if he expected to see Ron Weasley standing outside the classroom checking his watch and frowning.

'No, not there!' she whimpered. 'We can't - I can't - This ...was a mistake. We don't even like each other. How can I ...I don't -' she couldn't go on, although what she had said so far didn't actually make much sense except for the part where she thought they didn't like each other. He couldn't believe how much those words hurt him, and while they might be true for Hermione, he was very afraid that they were not for him any more.

Hermione was trying to rebuild her defenses. All she really, truly wanted to do was to let him persuade her to give in and drag her away to teach her all the things Ron was waiting to do to her. And that was the reason she had to stop this now.

Ron actually cared for her, he respected her boundaries and although she knew he wanted to be physically a lot closer to her he had never pushed her to move faster than she wanted. His surprising response to her question about his experience the other night made her all the more pleased by his restraint.

Hermione knew as much about anatomy as the next person (well, except perhaps for Malfoy, who actually was the next person right now) and she was perfectly aware of how Ron's body reacted when he was holding her; she was aware of the totally instinctive thrusts that occasionally occurred quite beyond his control. She had felt his erection against her stomach and her behind when he was close to her; certainly sufficiently that she had felt qualified to make comparisons just now.

She had kissed and held Ron many times, but never, never once, despite how nice and affectionate it felt, had her brain simply checked out on her. Always, always her mind was ticking over; analyzing, thinking, planning.

Which brought her back to her present dilemma. She and Draco were standing a foot apart, panting and verging on undressed, and she still didn't have command over her body; it was on the edge of rebelling against her and doing exactly what it wanted. And, oh did it want Draco! One touch of his mouth and her sensible academic brain had rolled over and waved the white flag. Here I am, come and get me! She had been incapable of thought, of anything but feeling. He drained away her free will and she didn't even mourn it's loss.

The sudden sound of voices penetrated the haze in her head, and she jumped away from Draco as if scalded. Repairs to her clothing would have to wait. She dragged her fingers through her tousled hair and pulled her robes tightly closed around her front. Scooping up her dropped book bag, she fled without another look at him, but her heard her hissed words as he watched her departing back, 'Stay away from me!'

He leaned against the wall where he had been pressing Granger scant minutes earlier, finally realizing that his own legs were shaky, even if certain other parts of his anatomy were standing up straight and waving hello.

What had happened now was a totally new experience for him. There had never been a time in his life when his control vanished as it just had. It was a Malfoy's duty never to let a situation slip out of his command; his father had drummed that rule into his head from an early age. Lucius might be convicted felon now, but the sentiment was sound despite the advisor.

Merlin's Toenails, he had fucked that plan up tonight! For the first time in his life, Draco had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next.


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the week passed in a haze of guilt and indecision for Hermione. Thankfully Ron, Harry and Ginny were so tied up with the upcoming Quidditch Opening game against Slytherin that her bizarre behaviour went largely unnoticed. Ron did ask on Friday morning after taking a second look at the mauve shadows under her eyes, if she was sleeping properly, but he was readily convinced that she had just been trying to make up for time lost on the Halloween Feast. It was simple for her to blame Professor Snape's Advanced Potions coursework, as neither Ron nor Harry took this class, and Ron was on board with all things anti-Slytherin at the moment anyway. The usual Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry always rose to new heights during the run-up to a Quidditch match between the houses.

Hermione realised finally that some evil gremlin was interfering in her life late on Thursday afternoon, when Professor McGonagall announced their new partners for the next Transfiguration project by casually saying, 'Miss Granger, you can just pop over and take the seat next to Mr Malfoy there,' before quickly handing out other partner assignments, as if she had not just sentenced Hermione to a fate worse than death.

The ninety minute class passed in an agony of nerves for the Head Girl; however as it mostly consisted of taking notes about the direction of the future project, she managed to escape without ever having to actually speak to Draco, and he similarly made no effort to communicate with her.

She was still feeling the nauseous churning in her stomach when they arrived in regular Potions first thing Friday morning, and Professor Snape barked out new seating arrangements which consisted of, welcome to my personal Hell, a pairing with the Head Boy! This time Hermione could not help looking at him; her face was twisted into a look of utter panic and horror, and was sure she could feel the toast and bacon from breakfast inching their way back up her throat. Draco just looked back with an expression of dark annoyance on his face. They took their seats and stared in totally opposite directions for the rest of the lesson.

By the time it was over, Professor Snape was utterly convinced neither of them had heard one word he had said, let alone written anything down on their parchments. This childish behaviour on top of the argument he had chosen not to witness on Wednesday night put him in a worse mood than ever for the whole class. He was now convinced that this new initiative of the Headmaster's would result in both of the school's most promising students totally failing their NEWTS, and ending up with a future serving fast food at Hermann's Happy Wizards Hut to look forward to.

He was so totally put out by the display he had been forced to witness that he took the unprecedented decision to confront the Headmaster about his instructions after classes ended on Friday. After all, it was very important that Draco be focused for the game tomorrow. Dumbledore listened carefully and thoughtfully to Severus' impassioned complaint about the new requirements, and finally commented, 'They ignored each other for the whole class, you say. And didn't take any notes at all?'

'Not a single word!' Severus replied with great relish.

'Indeed,' the Headmaster said considering, 'And did they move their seats away from each other at all whilst they were busy ignoring each other?'

'What?' Severus asked, confused as to this turn of the conversation. 'Why on earth would they be re-arranging the furniture?'

'So they didn't then?' the Headmaster pushed, and on receiving an affirmative from Severus beamed at his Potions Master, and said happily, 'Well, this is splendid news. It's obviously working much faster than I had hoped! Run along now, dear boy. I am very much looking forward to the match tomorrow. I am sure it will be a truly splendid game!'

Whilst Professor Snape was hitting his head up against the brick wall that was the Headmaster, Hermione was once again sitting at the Gryffindor table, listening to pre-game strategy. Harry and Ron had briefly commiserated with her about the incredible bad luck she had experienced twice in two days in the assignment of Malfoy as a work partner, but the other concern with Malfoy - beating his team tomorrow - clearly overshadowed any real concern in their minds for Hermione's misfortune.

'I think we need to take this back to the Common Room,' Ron was saying now, looking furtively around the Great Hall, 'Malfoy might have set some spies on us to eavesdrop and get advance warning of our tactics for tomorrow.' Harry nodded sagely, as if he had been thinking the same thing, and the two boys stood up from the table sweeping a few last desserts into their pockets, to be followed by half the Gryffindors still present in the room.

'You coming, Mione?' Ron asked as he belatedly realised she had not moved from her spot, and she sighed briefly, bowing her head and closing her eyes. It was inevitable; she was nervous wreck, but she would have to tell Ron that they needed to take a break from their relationship. She was making herself ill thinking about what this whole situation could do to Ron, never mind what it had already done to her! If she and Ron were not an official 'couple' any more maybe she could manage to cope better with the guilt which was daily pressing harder and deeper into her mind.

It was entirely likely that she might not be able to regain her full concentration; in fact she doubted such a thing would ever happen now she had been partnered with Malfoy in both Potions and Transfiguration, just his proximity to her today during class had left her achingly aware of the gravitational pull of his body on hers. Even whilst she was ignoring him she had felt herself drawn helplessly towards the heat of him; but with the oppressive weight of her guilt at cheating on Ron removed from her mind, she hoped that she could begin to function again with some semblance of normality. With a bit of luck, (not that she'd experienced any of that so far this term!) she would be able to look back on all this and laugh at her foolishness by the time the NEWTS were over; she and Ron would reconcile and start their adult lives free and clear of any lingering thoughts about a certain blond Slytherin ferret.

It could happen.

Maybe.

If she tried really, really, really hard to forget what Draco's mouth had tasted like as it took possession of hers.

Tomorrow,

she thought, I'll have to tell Ron tomorrow. But not until after the game. She hoped with that one decision made that she might sleep better tonight. She got up and followed the other Gryffindors to their tower. She had not set foot in the Head Student study once this week and at this point in time, doubted she would before the end of the school year. She wished she could just slip back into the dormitory with Lavender and Parvati, but she knew that would create too many questions she had no answers for. Well, not answers she could share, anyway. The girls were suitably envious of her single room already. She could never explain why she was scared to sleep there now, although she rather thought they coveted her privacy less for the academic reasons of peace and quiet to study traditionally afforded to the school's top students, and more for the potential of uninterrupted romantic encounters with Neville or whomsoever was Lavender's current beau of the month. Hermione saw no chance of her ever getting to enjoy even the tamest sexual encounter in her single room, now that her burgeoning relationship with Ron had been doomed by Malfoy's actions and her own reactions.

Faced with the irrefutable fact that she could not spend the night with Lavender and Parvati, Hermione listened for an excruciating thirty minutes to tactics and plays and anti-Slytherin propaganda, until she thought if she heard Malfoy's name mentioned just one more time she would lose her slender grip on sanity and turn in to a gibbering, slobbering wreck right in the middle of the common room carpet.

'That's it.' She announced suddenly and forcefully. 'I can't listen to another moment of this. You will win. You always win against Slytherin. I'm going to bed. I will see you all after the game.'

That done, she marched off thought the portrait of Godric, leaving a bevy of startled faces in her wake. When she stepped into her bedroom after the somewhat disorienting transport from her House, she threw herself immediately onto her bed and screamed into her pillow, kicking and thumping her hands and feet onto the mattress. This childish tantrum did not relieve any of her tension. It did, however drive Crookshanks out of his favored spot at the end of her bed, to hiss and spit at her from across the room.

****

The day of the Gryffindor-Slytherin game dawned with near-perfect conditions; the sky was slightly hazy which reduced glare and would make it easier to spot the snitch when it appeared. There was barely a breath of a breeze in the air, just gently rustling the tree tops of the Forbidden Forest, and it was exceptionally warm for early November.

The game was scheduled to start at two o'clock, which meant the morning was spent in an agony of last minute instructions, and Hermione hid in the library until lunch time. She was confident that she wouldn't run into Malfoy in there today, as he was no doubt also rabidly trying to outthink Harry's latest game plan with his own team. Just thinking about him in his Quidditch uniform made her traitorous heart skip wildly and she could feel certain parts of her body betraying her mind again. She remembered Luna and Amber's comments about his arse on the broomstick and shivered with the knowledge that today she had a perfectly valid excuse to be looking at him. Any Gryffindor worthy of the name would be glaring venomously at the Slytherin Captain today. Oh, Merlin, she was sick, sick, sick!

As usual, Harry and Ron were too stressed to eat, something which only ever happened before a game with Slytherin. Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione as the two boys muttered together in a huddle throughout the whole meal; she was eating a pasta salad for instant carbohydrate fuel.

A sudden commotion across the Hall had their eyes turning towards the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and his team were standing up and moving as a unit towards the doors. The other Slytherins were cheering and stomping their feet, banging their goblets on the table. A few lingering rounds of Weasley is our King still emerged every time they had to play Gryffindor, despite the fact that Ron had turned into a very decent player. Draco was smiling and bowing to the crowd as he led the rest of his team away, and Hermione felt shivers run down the length of her spine as she remembered what he had been doing with that mouth just three days ago.

'Well, anything we do now will just look like we're copying that git,' Ron pronounced gloomily. 'Might as well just slip off quietly to the changing rooms.'

Hermione was abruptly brought back form her contemplation of Malfoy's behind departing the Great Hall by Ron shaking her shoulder, and saying 'See you after the game, Mione?'

Guilt rose afresh. 'Good luck, Ron. Don't worry, you'll wipe the ground with them. You always do; it's all just hot air with them. You know you're the better team!'

'That's easy for you to say, Mione,' he mumbled. 'But you didn't come and watch them play in the friendlies this year. He's got a good team together. It won't be the walk-over we're used to. We're really going to have to work for this one.'

They walked away with much less of the fanfare that had surrounded Malfoy's departure, and Hermione was left with Neville and Parvati for company. Parvati leaned over, her mind obviously on things Slytherin and asked her, 'How are you managing with Professor Sprout's project? It looks like Parkinson has totally washed her hands of the whole thing. I don't think I've seen her lift a finger since the first day we were given the venis to look after.'

It took Hermione a moment to redirect her thoughts aside from the Quidditch saturated path they had been drifting down this morning, and back to things academic. She shook her head. 'Well, you know Pansy,' she said vaguely. 'She was never much of a student. At least I know it's getting done right.' In truth she had been pleased to find that Pansy's response to her refusal to spy for her had been as mild as abstaining from doing her half of the project. She had honestly expected something a lot worse and more hex-shaped.

Neville nodded agreeably, but Parvati just snorted. 'Hah! That bitch! She figures she won't need any qualifications if she's going to be the next Mrs Malfoy. She'll find out!'

Damn! Him again! Why can't I have a single conversation that doesn't end up being about Him?

For an awful second, Hermione thought she had actually said the words out loud, but Parvati and Neville's expressions remained unchanged. 'What will she find out?' she asked uncertainly when Parvati seemed to be expecting a comment.

'Well, that she can't have Malfoy, of course,' Parvati replied. 'My sister heard from one of her Ravenclaw friends who has a cousin in Slytherin, that one of her friends who is French, told her that Malfoy's father has had him betrothed to some French witch who goes to Beauxbatons since he was about two years old. But no one has bothered to tell Pansy because even most of the girls in Slytherin don't like her much!'

Hermione was far too sensible a girl to be convinced by the far fetched tale told by a friend of a friend of a friend who heard it from a distant relative. Oh, no. What worried her far more was the horrible sinking feeling which settled in her stomach at the idea of Malfoy belonging to someone - anyone - else. She swallowed back her bile and rose quickly from the table before she could betray herself. 'Can you two save me a seat. I need to go to my room and get my scarf before the game,' she mumbled quickly, looking for an excuse to flee. One could not attend a Quidditch game without one's House scarf to wave in the air.

When she reached her room, she stood for long moments staring at herself in the mirror. She looked exactly the same; how could nothing appear to have changed externally when her insides were in such a frenzy these days? She pressed her fingertips into her cheeks and glared into her frantic eyes. Oh, girl you are in so much shit, she thought to herself unhappily.

She finally gathered up her scarf realising that if she didn't hurry she was going to end up being late for the game. As she sped across the grounds from the school to the Quidditch fields she was aware that she would be one of the last people there. Unlike other inter-house games, a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor always drew a large audience from all houses. The spectators could be assured of a nail biting competition with lots of excitement and exotic maneuvers, and more often than not some spectacular falls and injuries.

She decided that she would need to take the back steps up from behind the changing rooms to get there in time, but as she approached she was visited with a sudden memory of what had happened in the Gryffindor stands last Sunday evening. How could she have forgotten that this was the scene of that first earth shattering kiss with Malfoy? She wondered briefly if she was too late to change her direction and go to sit with Luna in the Ravenclaw stands. But she couldn't do that; she was the Gryffindor Keeper's girlfriend, today at least even if in reality for not much longer. She needed to be seen publicly supporting him from his own House Stands.

Reluctantly she started moving again, and not noticing a door opening to her left, she walked straight into the person emerging from behind it. They both grunted with the impact and Hermione found herself looking right into a broad chest covered in dark green wool. Oh, Merlin! She had forgotten that the Gryffindor changing rooms were right next to Slytherin's, and therefore the back stairs to the stands were right beside the Slytherin door. How could she have forgotten, or had it been her subconscious directing her where her conscious mind refused to take her?

'Well, well, what have we here?' a mocking voice whispered in her ear, and she could feel the rumbling of his words vibrate in the chest she was so closely pressed to. 'Come to wish the Weasel luck, Granger?'

It had to be him! Out of seven players who could have walked out of that door at any given minute it had to be Malfoy who had crashed into her in the shadowed corridor between the changing rooms. She made no attempt to answer; indeed she couldn't for her heart was hammering so hard against her rib cage as to make speech impossible, but when no hissing venom was forthcoming, Malfoy added speculatively, 'Or perhaps you've come to wish me luck instead, Granger?'

He took a hasty glance around and finding that they were totally alone in the darkened walkway, quickly maneuvered Hermione backwards until they passed behind one of the draperies and were actually concealed underneath the Gryffindor stand. 'Is that it, Granger,' he murmured, his hot breath blowing over her ear. 'Did you come down here to give me a good luck kiss?'

Had she?

Oh, God! What if she had - her brain certainly didn't seem to be in control of her actions these days. What if her subconscious had taken over command of her legs and brought her here? There really was no reason not to have joined the throng of other late straggling Gryffindors mounting the main stairs, now that she thought about it. What on earth had prompted her to take this secluded back way? There were still fifteen minutes before start time. She could have easily made it to her seat, even with any last minute rush; after all Parvati and Neville had come here straight from lunch and were saving her a spot.She looked at Malfoy, feeling like a mouse staring down Crookshanks' whiskers. It was unfair that one person should look so good in green. Even in the dim light beneath the stands she could see how well the colour highlighted his hair and made his eyes look like they were a bright seafoam green. He was smirking at her as if he had caught her out in a lie, and all of a sudden she wished for nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face. He had challenged her, and though he had been the one constantly surprising her this term so far, she decided it was her turn to be unpredictable.

She pounced so fast that he barely had time to register her movement, but some basic survival instinct sent him reaching for his wand only to find it missing as he didn't usually carry it onto the Quidditch field. It turned out he didn't need it, for Hermione's intentions were not hostile; instead she caught hold of his face in both hands and stretched upwards to plant her mouth firmly on his. He was frozen for a millisecond in shock, but instinct took over almost immediately and he snatched her body closer to his, crushing her against his chest, taking the initiative away from her.

His tongue swept inside her mouth and she welcomed it eagerly, her own playing shyly with his. She rubbed herself softly against his uniform clad body and allowed one hand to slip from his face to curl into the hair at the back of his neck whilst the other traced his eyes and the side of his cheek before sliding down to curve around his back under his robes. She urged him closer to her and could feel him growing and hardening against her belly. He moaned into her mouth and brought one hand up to cup her cheek as she had done.

It was the weight of the heavy leather wrist guard as it brushed her chin which brought Hermione back to her senses; it had been a brief but devastating embrace. She pulled back and they were both panting. 'We have to stop doing this, Malfoy,' she hissed hoarsely . 'I have a boyfriend,' oh, yeah, not for much longer you coward, 'and you - have a game to play,' she retreated to the edge of the stands and cast a quick look around the edge of the draperies to ascertain that there was no one there to see her emerge from such a peculiar place.

But Draco heard her add quite clearly as she stepped through into the daylight, 'Good luck, Malfoy.' He leant back against one of the support beams; ten minutes to the start of the game and his legs were shaking, and he had a fucking hard-on. He wondered if he had time to deal with it; flying with an erection was bloody uncomfortable, not to mention the constant stimulation of the broom shaft against your balls could just exacerbate an already embarrassing situation and turn it into and even more embarrassing ejaculation into your underwear. That was all he bloody needed in the middle of a game against bloody Gryffindor.

This was becoming a bad habit he thought as he released himself from his uniform trousers and stroked his length; see Granger, get an erection, jerk off. Why couldn't he control his body around her, for Fuck's sake? He was supposed to be rallying the troops to defeat the Gryffindor juggernaut, not hiding under the Quidditch stands wanking off over one of them. He groaned as his hand ran the length of his swollen penis, replaying that surprising kiss behind his eyelids, and within moments he was christening the ground in front of him with massive spurts of sticky white cum, biting his lip to keep the moans of her name inside. Her name always seemed to spill out of his mouth when he came lately. Probably because thinking about her was the only thing guaranteed to make him hard these days. Bugger, he thought as he tucked himself away and cast a quick cleansing charm, just in case. Look what Pansy had managed to create with some left over ejaculate obtained from Merlin-knows-where.

He found however, that his mood was vastly improved as he walked back into the Slytherin changing rooms. Granger had kissed him; so maybe he had planted the idea in her head, but this time she had certainly made the first move. He found he rather liked an aggressive Hermione. Hell, who was he kidding; he liked all the incarnations of Hermione Granger! And if you disregarded the bit in the middle where she told him they had to stop kissing each other and that she had a boyfriend, and went straight to the bit at the end where she wished him good luck, you might even be able to convince yourself (if you were really desperate, and it appeared that Draco was) that there was something happening here.

In consequence, when he bounded back into the locker room to an accompaniment of jeers and complaints about his disappearance, he was positively beaming. 'Come on,' he yelled above the din. 'Let's go and get us some Gryffindors for dinner. I have a really good feeling about this game!'

There was a bit more grumbling about being abandoned so close to kick-off, but in general Draco's good spirits lifted the team's, and as they collected their brooms and flew out in a tight arrow formation to face their nemeses they were all looking a lot calmer.

Waiting for Madam Hooch to blow the whistle, Draco fantasized happily that when they creamed Potter's team, he would celebrate by whispering in ScarHead or even better, the Weasel King's ear that it was all thanks to Granger and her passionate kisses and softly whispered words of encouragement that he had the focus to do so today. He thought the look on their faces might be even better than catching the Snitch out from under Potter's nose!


	18. Chapter 18

Neville winced beside Hermione; hard as it seemed to believe, the game was not going well for Gryffindor. They had been playing for a little over an hour now and Slytherin was ahead by 120 points to 90. The snitch had not put in an appearance until five minutes ago, and after some blindingly fast pursuit by both seekers, it had seemingly vanished into thin air again.

Harry was cruising high over the field, ignoring the action below him, eyes alert for any flash of gold. Draco hovered some yards lower, keeping his eyes on Harry, his team and the surrounding area. Hermione thought he was behaving differently today than he usually did during a match; he was prone to haunt Harry's tail like a shadow most games, but his tactics had changed drastically for this one. He was only watching Harry in a very cursory manner, as if he was no threat; the same way that Harry usually treated him when they were competing.

Hermione began to worry if she was responsible for this change of tactics; had her parting words caused bad luck for Gryffindor? For what she had intended to say of course, had been, 'Good luck, Malfoy - because you're going to need it!' But somehow the latter half of the sneering sentence had refused to come out of her lips, despite her urgently trying to force it, and she was fairly sure the contemptuous tone had gotten lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth. She had intended it to be a scathing epilogue to her comments about Harry's flying ability on Sunday night, but she feared that it had actually turned out more like a heartfelt encouragement to go and flatten Gryffindor!

Of course, if she hadn't given in to his taunting and actually kissed him, then maybe her brain might not have turned to mush and allowed uncensored sentiments to slip out of her mouth when she wasn't paying attention! She was most horrified by the thought that somewhere in her subconscious she apparently wanted Malfoy to win this game; otherwise why would she have let such unguarded words slip by her.

It was certainly a fact that she had hardly taken her eyes off him since the game started. Despite having spent the past sixty minutes telling herself to stop it, she had only managed to look away to her own team when groans and gasps from the students surrounding her made her realise that Slytherin had scored more points against them.

She was only surprised that neither Neville or Parvati had commented on her distraction, but she supposed that they could be mistaking the fierce look which she could actually feel to be present on her own face as she wrestled with her traitorous hormones, for the look of someone plotting a nasty revenge, rather than the look of someone fighting an unacceptable attraction.

Malfoy certainly had a better team this year; even with her own deplorable lack of Quidditch knowledge, she could see that they were more cohesive and focused than ever before. Malfoy seemed to have developed a range of signals to direct his players around the field without him having to speak, and the intimidation tactics they had used in previous years had been superceded by speed, skill and flying ability. If they could maintain this high level of performance throughout the whole year, it was entirely possible that Gryffindor would have a real battle on their hands to retain the Cup for another year.

She was torn from her contemplation as Parvati suddenly gripped her arm hard, and her loudly squealed, 'No!' was echoed all over the Gryffindor stands. Hermione followed her friend's pained gaze to see that the scoreboard had added another 5 points to Slytherin, and that all the players had momentarily ceased flying as Madam Hooch descended to the pitch to check on a Gryffindor player who had toppled off his broom and fallen to the ground.

Ferdic Brennan, a 6th year from Ravenclaw who was the current commentator was shouting excitedly over the cries from the spectators, 'And that was just an amazing save by Slytherin seeker, Draco Malfoy, even though he was totally out of position defending his own goals! And Gryffindor chaser Neale Bosworth taken down by one of their own bludgers! I don't think I've ever seen such a thing before. Madam Hooch is calling for a ten minute recess while she has Madam Pomfrey check out Bosworth, but he looks to be okay; I see him waving!'

Most of the Gryffindor players had flown down to ground level; Harry was standing close to Madam Hooch's shoulder obviously worried about Neale, the rest of the team was waiting close by for the mediwitch's prognosis. Hermione felt her traitorous eyes swivel away from the drama unfolding on the ground to seek out the object of her distraction. The Slytherins had closed together in a huddle near their own goal hoops and were gesturing forcefully amongst themselves; Malfoy was flying in lazy circles some feet below his teammates, obviously playing the part of concerned Captain, and waiting to hear if the game could recommence.

As if he had felt her eyes upon him his head swung round to look directly at her, finding her in the crowd as though he had known exactly where she was all along. Their eyes met and held, and Hermione did not know how long they might have simply stared at each other if Ferdic had not chosen that moment to announce, 'Madam Pomfrey is letting Bosworth continue to play. Look, he's mounting his broom and he's back in the game!'

A huge cheer resounded from around Hermione and she was dragged to her feet with the rest of the Gryffindors when they rose to support Neale as he flew back into the air. She maintained eye contact with Malfoy for moments longer as he mouthed to her, 'I'm going to win,' and all she could manage in response was to confess, 'I know,' and she did; what she was uncertain of was whether he was talking about just this game, or something else entirely.

However, the minute Neale was back in his position and Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, Malfoy was all attention; back to the professional alert seeker that they had so disbelieved he could actually be back in second year when he took the position on the Slytherin team.

The Slytherins flew into position like a well-oiled machine; Hermione hadn't even seen Malfoy direct them. Next to her, Neville leaned over and said worriedly, 'They're awfully good this year, aren't they Hermione?' and she knew he was not talking about the Gryffindor team. Neville was not a great Quidditch follower like Dean and Seamus, so Hermione supposed that today's display had been as much of a shock to him as it had to her, even in spite of Harry's warnings.

'Yes, it does look that way,' she agreed, uncomfortably aware that the knowledge was not paining her as much as it had Neville. There was an undeniable part of her subconscious which had pushed itself so far forward that it was teetering on the very brink of becoming conscious, and it was cheering for Malfoy. She was perched on the very edge of her bench and although she was responding to Neville all her attention was focused on Malfoy as he circled the pitch, trusting his team to keep scoring points whilst he searched for the snitch.

She had nervous butterflies in her stomach and she was disgusted with herself; she felt as if she was behaving like one of the Snitcher Girls Ginny had described yesterday morning, but she couldn't stop staring at him. Merlin, but he looked good with his hair all ruffled up, and where the speed of his flight blew his robes out behind him she got a perfect view of his thighs and buttocks clenching to keep his balance on the broom, and that got her to wondering if Quidditch players wore some kind of athletic support to protect themselves from the friction of the broomstick, like cricket players did in the Muggle world. She squirmed uncomfortably on the bench; she was spending entirely too much time lately thinking about the contents of Draco Malfoy's trousers, and it was making her as randy as a goat.

Ferdic Brennan was yelling excitedly now as the newly restored Neale Bosworth took a hold of the Quaffle and was heading straight for Slytherin's hoops. 'Bosworth is going to score for Gryffindor, and he does. What a recovery, you just can't keep this boy down!'

The crowd around Hermione erupted into cheers as the score board advanced in their favour again, and if her cheering was only half-hearted, at least she was the only person to know it. But as she was the only person not wholeheartedly watching the Gryffindor team as they celebrated the goal, she was therefore the only one to see the exact moment when Malfoy spotted the Snitch, and she gasped in anticipation as he shot after it a good five seconds before Harry also spotted it.

Ferdic had also seen that the seekers were in hot pursuit of the Snitch and was giving a comprehensive dialogue on their progress; He was actually an excellent commentator, not as biased as both Lee Jordan and his brother who had preceded him. Even in matters of his own house he had managed to give objective commentary, even when annihilated by Slytherin

Hermione had one fist stuffed into her mouth at this point, trying to prevent any cries of the wrong name escaping when the chase reached its climax; she was genuinely afraid that she might scream out Malfoy's name at the crucial moment. The other hand was shredding the fringe at the end of her scarf as she twisted and twined it around her fingers. Was it really so awful for her to want in the deepest recesses of her secret heart for another team - no not even the team, just one person on the team - to win this once? she asked herself, as she watched Harry and Draco racing after the elusive tiny golden ball? Well, of course it was and she knew it; she was the Keeper's girlfriend. She of all people could not be supporting the other side.

All she really wished now was just that it be over quickly; she had never felt tension like this at a match before, where her heart was contradicting her brain. She thought something might snap if she had to watch much more of this. And then, just as if she had wished it so, it was. There was a moment of utter silence in the stadium where you could have heard the proverbial pin drop, and then Malfoy roared 'Yes!' at the top of his voice and holding the Golden Snitch out in his left hand, he sent his broom into a tailspin straight upwards from the pitch. He had obviously charmed the tail to emit sparks if they won, for as he shot upwards a trail of green and silver spangles burst from the end, falling gently to the ground before fizzling out like fireworks on Bonfire Night.

Harry looked utterly disconcerted, as if he had no idea how Malfoy could be in possession of the snitch whilst he was still hovering in the place where he had last seen it. Even Hermione whose gaze had been glued to Malfoy for the whole game was unsure how he had actually captured the snitch; he had maneuvered so fast that it had all seemed a blur.

All of a sudden the frozen spectators erupted into reaction. The Slytherin stands were actually shaking with the effects of the stamping feet and jumping students as they roared and cheered for their team. Hermione actually let out a muffled squeak of relief, but thanks to her fortitude in keeping her mouth full of her hand, it was easily swallowed up in the groans of despair from her housemates all around her.

Ferdic Brennan was announcing to anyone who might have missed the result, 'Slytherin has won! In an astonishing display of skill and dexterity, Slytherin seeker Draco Malfoy captured the snitch right out from under Harry Potter's nose by using an upwards Corkscrew Turn. He must have been practicing that move all summer! Again, Slytherin wins, in just an hour and forty minutes!! The score is 275 to 115!' Ferdic continued to try and give the history of the maneuver that Draco had used and its development by the French National Quidditch Squad, but even with the use of a sonorous charm, he was unable to make himself heard above the clamor from the stadium and eventually he gave up and joined the rest of his housemates.

Finally brought to a comprehension of her betrayal by the sea of devastated faces around her, Hermione felt her euphoria dissolve with the realisation of what this actually meant to her House. On examination of the sickened expressions before her, she found that she couldn't remember the Gryffindors looking this upset since the day that Professor Umbridge had banned Harry and the Weasley twins from Quidditch back in the 5th year, yet another occasion which had all been Malfoy's fault.

An awful and perfect recollection of exactly what Malfoy had done then to result in Harry's ban from Quidditch rose up in front of her eyes, and she felt suddenly sick to her stomach. This was still the same person, even if he had been showing improved personality traits over the past year; he would always be Draco Malfoy, who had lied cheated and hexed his way through the first five years of her schooling. The boy who had manipulated and connived continuously to get them in trouble. How could she have been kissing him less than two hours ago, and desperately wanting him to win against her own house?

And how - even now as he flew another victory lap around the stands, followed in an arrow formation by the rest of the Slytherin team and pausing deliberately in front of the devastated Gryffindor stand - could she watch the ecstatic grin on his gorgeous face and still feel a rush of pleasure that he had won this game? She allowed herself to think for a moment that the huge smile on his face was for her alone, as was the silently formed word which she thought she saw ghost across his lips as he turned away and led the team off again; Thank you!

She sat down abruptly on the bench, and buried her face in her hands. I am in so much trouble, she thought. Why can't I stop thinking about him? She almost jumped as she felt a hand descend on her shoulder, and looked up to find herself relieved to see that it was only Parvati, with Lavender hovering behind her.

'Are you okay, Hermione?' Parvati asked. 'Wasn't that just terrible?' she added mournfully, and Hermione nodded, fully aware that she was agreeing to something totally different than what Parvati meant.

'We should go back to the common room,' Lavender added. 'Ron's going to need you to comfort him when they get out of the showers.'

The sick feeling returned tenfold. Ron. How could she have forgotten about her boyfriend in all her selfish musings about her own agitation? Lavender's reason for mentioning him suddenly became apparent to her as she looked towards the Slytherin stands and heard a faint burst of Weasley is our King escape as Malfoy's team stopped to hover in front of their housemates.

She noted abstractedly that Draco abruptly stopped the chorus before it could start with a few decisive hand motions, apparently lecturing the Slytherins on some alternative amusement, as a huge cheer greeted whatever he had said. There was too much other noise in the stadium to hear his words, and as his back was to Gryffindor, she was unable to attempt her minor ability to lip read. Why had he stopped them singing a song he himself had penned, and which had become akin to a National Anthem to the Slytherins, she wondered?

Lavender was tugging her upwards now and she squared her shoulders for the journey back to the Gryffindor Tower. She had the distance of the grounds to prepare herself to be the supportive girlfriend, and banish all thoughts of sexy blond Slytherins who kissed like an angel and behaved like the devil from her mind.

The mood in the common room seemed more suited to a wake than a post-game afternoon. It wasn't that Gryffindor had never lost a Quidditch match, for they certainly had. But Hermione realised that they rarely lost to Slytherin, and so early in the season too. True, there had been pre-season friendly games played already this term, and Gryffindor had won theirs against Hufflepuff, as had Slytherin against Ravenclaw. But this was the first game which counted towards the Cup at the end of the year. Could it have gotten off to a worse start? Hermione felt her own culpability as she looked upon the morbid faces of her friends as they awaited the return of their team.

Thirty minutes later, the portrait hole opened to admit Harry and the rest of his team. They looked rueful but resigned. A cheer arose for them despite their defeat and they acknowledged the support gratefully. As their leader, Harry felt compelled to address the result, and he climbed onto a small occasional table with Ginny beside him holding his hand. The other members of the team took seats around the common room and waited to hear him speak. The room was exceptionally full as most students didn't want to retire to their dormitories before sympathizing with their Captain, and any excuse to revile Slytherin was always welcome.

Sitting aside from the main crush of people tucked away in a corner chair, Hermione felt again the pressure to uphold the Sorting Hat's pleas to unify the Houses, and wished that Slytherin was not so readily regarded as the villain. Of course, they did little to alter their bad image outside their own house, but even someone as inexperienced as Hermione in the area of Quidditch could see that today's game had definitely been won by skill and experience and not the usual tactics of intimidation and borderline thuggery that had been prevalent in previous years.

Ron spotted where she was sitting and made his way over to her as they waited for Harry to begin speaking. He pulled her up and sat down in her space tugging her onto his lap. He looped his arms loosely around her waist and she could smell the soap and shampoo on him. His hair was still wet, and seemed much darker than usual where it clung to his neck and dampened her shoulder as he rested his head there with a sigh.

'Told you they were playing better, didn't I?' he groaned as he played with the hem of her jumper. But Hermione was relieved to find that he didn't seem to have regressed to his 5th year behaviour of blaming himself for any goals which slipped by him.

"Yes, you did,' she agreed softly. 'I think -' but she got no further for Harry began speaking.

'Well, there isn't much I can say about this afternoon which I am sure hasn't already been said by all of you gathered here. We knew that Slytherin was operating differently this year; we've all watched them in the pre-season games. However, I think we found out today that watching and participating are two very different things. It's very easy to be critical when you are a spectator; it's much different when you are up in the air facing down people who have always behaved in one way. You have expectations which are ingrained, even though your common sense tells you that this will be different today. All I can add is that we won't be taken by surprise again. We've got the measure of this new Slytherin now, and next time they better watch out!'

He jumped off the table accompanied by rousing shouts of, 'Next time,' and 'Watch out Malfoy!' Shortly thereafter many of the students drifted off to their dormitories or outside the common room to follow other pursuits. No one really felt in the mood for a party; Ron seemed to be dozing in the chair with Hermione held loosely on his lap. She realised with a aching heart that there was absolutely no way on earth she could tell him they had to stop seeing each other today, now that this had happened.

There was a sudden knocking on the portrait door, and one of the younger girls went over to answer it. Hermione watched as Luna Lovegood entered the common room and was immediately joined by Ginny Weasley. Luna and Ginny exchanged a brief but seemingly intense conversation, and Hermione thought she saw Ginny gesturing over to where she was curled in this chair with Ron's head on her shoulder.

There was absolutely no change of expression on Luna's dreamy countenance, but Hermione suspected that something unusual was being discussed between her and Ginny, and when Ginny placed an arm on Luna's elbow and tried to bring her further into the room she became convinced. Luna however, shook her head firmly and detaching herself from Ginny slipped back out of the common room as quietly as she had entered, leaving Hermione to ponder what that could have been about, especially as she saw that Ginny was watching her brother and Hermione whilst at the same time trying very hard to seem as if she wasn't.

Hermione was effectively trapped in her position by Ron's seeming slumber, and she had ample opportunity to wonder what could have brought Luna Lovegood to the Gryffindor common room so quickly after such a major defeat. The only thought which she could come up with was to again wonder if there had been some prior relationship between them that she knew nothing about, and that Luna had come to extend her sympathy and support to Ron in the light of the Slytherin victory.

She wondered if it was just her own guilty conscience encouraging her to believe that Ron had secrets now that she had some of her own to worry about. The evil corner of her mind was telling her that Luna just might prove to be her salvation in all of this mess; if Ron was to be embroiled in a relationship with Luna, then at least her own defection might be achieved without any resulting loss of friendship between them. She didn't know how she would survive if the closeness between herself, Ron and Harry collapsed because she broke up with Ron. Their friendship and devotion to each other had been the cornerstone of her life here at Hogwarts, and she should have known that to try and involve romance within it would be a recipe to destroy the foundations upon which it was built.

She could only hope now that she would be able to save what they once had, and maybe Luna would be her one chance to succeed, if she had read the signs correctly.


	19. Chapter 19

Draco did not want to be here. And that fact in itself was what kept him exactly where he was. It was beyond belief; this was all he had ever wanted before - to have beaten Harry Potter and his Gryffindor teammates fairly and squarely in a manner that could draw no criticism or investigations of his methods, and now he had it and it was being ruined by a girl. A Gryffindor girl.

Oh, there had been a brief hour immediately following their victory, when the euphoria of winning and the ecstasy of the other Slytherins had kept him on a gratified high, but now that the realization had sunk in that yes, they had finally beaten Gryffindor, he was blindsided by the knowledge that all he really wanted to do was hear Granger's reaction to the game; to know if she was actually pleased that he had won, even though it was at the expense of her House. But most of all he wanted to take her to bed and celebrate in the most basic of ways; by making love to her for hours and hours. He might even generously consider letting her get up for classes on Monday morning, he thought absently, if he absolutely couldn't manage another erection by then. Fast on the heels of this thought came the question as to when he had stopped wanting to have sex with Granger, and started wanting to make love to her? He didn't think he had ever regarded a single one of his other physical encounters as anything more than sex before in his life, and he hadn't even touched Granger yet.

The Slytherins had been denied far too many opportunities to celebrate by their Gryffindor rivals in the past, and they seemed determined to make up for every single Quidditch defeat today. They had compelled Draco onto a table and demanded a speech, which he had delivered briefly and flawlessly. After this, they had gotten down to the serious business of partying, but had made it impossible for their hero to escape the confines of the common room. At any one time, Draco had at least three or four girls vying for his attention, and as soon as he managed to pry them off himself the boys were lining up to shake his hand and ask for a detailed description of how he had mastered the upwards Corkscrew Turn.

Professor Snape himself had even put in an appearance in the Slytherin Common room; something which happened so rarely that the 7th years could count on the fingers of one hand how often they had seen it since they started here. Their Head of House expected discipline to be maintained by the house prefects, and it was a measure of his control over his house that none ever challenged his expectations.

He had stayed for maybe fifteen minutes, drank a glass of pumpkin juice and turned a blind eye to the butterbeer and whiskey that Crabbe and Goyle hastily pushed under the table when he entered the room. Snape had shaken Draco's hand solemnly and thanked him for his efforts and leadership so far this term. He had left shortly thereafter, having intimidated most of the students in the room so greatly that he ensured the celebration did not become too unruly or drunken.

Pansy, who was utterly petrified of their head of House due to a mysterious incident which dated back to the fifth year, and remained undisclosed to this day, was shaking violently all over by the time he left the room. In her relief at seeing the back of his head as he departed, she swallowed down several shots of whiskey to calm her nerves which only served to strip away all her common sense and lead her to proposition a highly unreceptive Draco.

She had spotted him standing momentarily alone beside the table they had set up for drinks, and had swayed unsteadily across to him, curving her hand through the crook of his elbow. Draco glared discouragingly at her, and when she refused to take the hint, searched the room for anyone whom he could compel to come and remove her from his person. His eyes lit on Blaise who was grinning widely at his predicament, and showed no inclination to rescue him at all, winking at him instead and mouthing 'You're on your own!'

Draco wondered suddenly if this might not be his opportunity to be done with Pansy and her intrusive little charm once and for all. A devious smile spread across his face, and even Blaise who was still laughing at him from across the other side of the room got a feeling of unease as he caught that sinister expression.

'Pansy,' he murmured silkily into her ear, 'Let's go to your room, shall we?' Despite the fog of alcohol clouding her brain, Pansy managed to goggle in shock at him proving she really hadn't expected to succeed in her clumsy seduction of the Head Boy. Blaise watched with a pensive expression as Draco led the tipsy girl up the staircase to the 7th year girls dormitory. He was not the only person interested in Draco's destination by a long shot; many other pairs of eyes followed Pansy's progress from the room in envy. Blaise was fairly sure however, that he was the only person who had an inkling of why Draco had chosen to leave with Pansy.

As they entered Pansy's room she cast a sloppy locking spell at the door, which Draco knew would never withstand an attempt to breach it, she was far too sozzled to cast effective spells; that was probably just as well, for he had no intentions of taking this to its presupposed conclusion. All he wanted from Pansy was the end of her charm.

Draco looked carefully around the room for the model; Blaise had said it was in clear sight on her dresser, and there it was exactly as he had described. Since he was not supposed to know anything about it, he moved towards it and examined it from several angles, before turning to Pansy and asking casually, 'This looks like an interesting ornament. What's it supposed to be?'

Pansy had collapsed onto her bed and was apparently waiting for him to join her there. She levered herself up onto her elbows to see what was taking so long and giggled as she realised what he was looking at. 'That's my smoke alarm,' she informed him happily. 'It lets me know if there's a fire I need to put out!'

Draco had to smile at her choice of metaphor. Oh, there was a fire burning all right, but she would never be the one to extinguish it! Pansy had dropped back against her pillows and was patting the space beside her in what she seemed to believe was a seductive manner. 'Come on, Draco,' she cooed to him. 'I'm getting lonely over here.'

'In a minute, Pans,' Draco replied distractedly. 'I'm just taking a look at this smoke thing of yours.' He picked it up and studied it from underneath and both sides. It seemed totally benign; mauve in colour and weighing about 2lbs or so, it was smooth on all its surfaces and seemed to have no openings at all. Thanking his father for once that he had the ability to do this without using his wand and drawing her attention to himself, he muttered a couple of disarming spells at the effigy, but there was no visible sign that they had any effect whatsoever.

He was so intent on his task that he didn't notice Pansy rising from the bed and swaying over to join him. 'Why are you so interested in that little thing?' she asked petulantly. 'It's for you, you know! But only I can turn it off. It won't work for anyone else!'

Draco clenched his teeth, and slipped an arm around Pansy's waist drawing her closer to him. It appeared he would have to take this seduction to the next level. She was far too drunk to intimidate effectively; the alcohol was giving her a false bravado she would never have dared demonstrate in front of Draco in one of his moods had she been completely in command of her faculties.

He bent and nibbled the skin below her left ear and she shivered in reaction, gasping his name and thrusting her breasts against him. He was aware that she was fully aroused; her nipples were like little pebbles poking into his chest and she was trying to ride one of his thighs; the whole episode made his skin crawl and he could actually feel his testicles shriveling up into his body. 'Pansy,' he murmured into her ear. 'I'm not happy that you have this little toy. You're going to need to get rid of it for me, or we won't be able to have any fun....'

He shut his eyes and brought her lips round to his; she smelled faintly of whisky and her mouth was too wet and sloppy. He was revolted, but forced himself to move slowly as he withdrew and not spit her saliva out of his mouth. 'Turn it off now, Pansy,' he whispered in her ear, 'So that we can go to bed.'

Pansy wriggled out of his arms with alacrity, and reaching for her wand where she had dropped it on the bedside table, flicked it in the general direction of the volcano and whispered 'Finite Incantatum' in a tipsy voice. Draco scowled, unable to believe the incantation had been that simple, but sure enough the model began to loose some of its mauve colouring until it resembled nothing more than a blob of brown modeling clay.

Throwing her wand haphazardly on the floor, Pansy caught his hands and dragged him back towards her bed; she was seeing her chance to finally get what she wanted from Draco Malfoy and nothing was going to get in her way this time. Except perhaps the amount of liquor she had consumed tonight. She unbuttoned her blouse hastily and pulled it off leaving her clad in only a pale blue bra and her skirt. Pansy didn't have bad breasts, he mused as she beckoned him to her. They were just the wrong ones. 'Draco, I - I don't feel very good,' she mumbled as he leant over the bed, and right in front of him her eyes rolled up, her mouth fell open and she began snoring like a bear.

Draco released a breath of relief that he hadn't been aware he was holding and scrubbed his hand violently over his mouth, trying to remove the taste of her from his tongue. He cast a last glance at the effigy and briefly considered taking it with him. However, that would have been too obvious; at least this way when Pansy came round from her drunken stupor in the morning, she would just think it had failed overnight. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he left her where she had collapsed and strode purposefully out of her dormitory and back into the common room. His return was greeted with a few raised eyebrows for he had after all been gone less than thirty minutes, and most of the Slytherins had rated his stamina at considerably longer than that. He walked back to his seat by the fireplace and remarked quite generally as he passed by Greg, 'Some people just can't hold their drink!'

The Slytherin girls, sensing that Pansy had failed in her bid to claim the hero of the day began circling him like vultures waiting for the kill; there was no sense of feminine solidarity with them. Draco watched them as they fought for prominence before him. It might be a sensible strategic move to be clearly seen with at least one other girl tonight; it would emphasize to Pansy that she had no hold over him come the morning, when they all rushed to tell her that since she had blown her chance with him by passing out, he had moved on to someone else.

To be truthful, the whole idea sickened him, but it was expected behaviour; the notion of a Draco Malfoy who only wanted one girl was something he was sure the rest of his house would never conceive of, and he chose to play up to his role of Slytherin Prince tonight to maintain his authority over the rest of the Slytherins; he didn't know if there might ever be an occasion where he would have to use all of that power to exert damage control if this obsession with the Head Girl got out of hand.

All he did know for certain right now was that just touching another girl gave him the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he was being unfaithful to Hermione Granger. He imagined that she would be able to see it all over his face that he had kissed another girl; someone who wasn't her. Merlin's beard, it was insanity to feel this way. She belonged to the Weasel and had told him as much just this afternoon. Why should he be feeling such overwhelming guilt for kissing Pansy when it seemed there wasn't even the ghost of a chance of their ever being in a relationship with each other?

His head was hurting with the conflicting emotions spinning around inside, and he took a speculative glance around the common room deciding that the only way to rid himself of this unwelcome guilt was to envisage how Granger was no doubt currently involved in commiserating heavily with her boyfriend over his tragic defeat. That was bound to make him angry enough to bury his feelings of guilt under a totally jealous desire to get back at her by finding some other girl to cuddle up to.

He caught Krista Reid's eye; she was the only girl not currently fawning over him. Instead she was glowering at him from the other side of the room; obviously still smarting over his exclusion of her from the Quidditch team. He winked at her and watched as the wheels started turning in her head; he recognised the exact moment when she decided that it would be just as good for her social standing within the House to be known as the girl Malfoy shagged after the match as it would have been to be part of the winning team.

Possibly even better; ever the opportunist, she chose to ignore any unpleasantness which had resulted from his brutal rejection of her when she tried to seduce her way onto the team, and glided over to where he sat, making her best effort to look sultry and seductive.

Draco had to bite hard onto his bottom lip to prevent the threatening laughter from spilling out. He couldn't believe he had never noticed how obvious the girls in his House were before. Granger would - No! He was not going to let her in again. Concentrate on Krista; she was in front of him now, her eyebrows raised questioningly, and he sucked in a calming breath before catching her hand and pulling her down onto his lap.

'Well, Krista,' he said silkily, 'Do you still want to know how you can help the Quidditch team?'

She shifted slowly trying to find the best position to provoke a reaction, and ran a finger down the side of his face and under his chin, lightly pushing upwards until his mouth was inches from hers. 'Well, Draco,' she purred, her hot breath blowing over his lips. 'You are the Captain; I am sure you have everyone's duties clearly defined in your head. What could a mere witch like myself do to assist the conquering heroes tonight?'

Bugger this!

Draco thought; she sounds like some stupid Muggle porn movie! He shut her up by covering her mouth with his own. It wasn't as wet as Pansy's sloppy kisses, but it left him cold and unmoved all the same; he could feel her heart rate increasing and her skin heating up, so he supposed he wasn't doing too bad a job of convincing her that he wanted this, but his mind couldn't let go of that other kiss. The one underneath the Quidditch stands before the game this afternoon, which had made his bones turn to jelly and his head spin with lust. The one which had won Slytherin the game today; he knew perfectly well that if had not been so high over the effects of that kiss and her parting words, he would probably never have managed that stupid maneuver; he had certainly not executed it correctly once over the summer despite practicing continuously - more often than not he had ended up on his arse in the mud watching his broom sailing away skywards without him. Undoubtedly the adrenalin pumping in his veins from his encounter with the Head Girl had given them the game, and he wanted to share his victory with her; nobody here could ever be a substitute for the girl he really wanted.

Krista was working very hard to arouse him; unfortunately her efforts made him feel like a eunuch choir boy. He couldn't remember a time in his life when his genitals had been more shrunken and unresponsive than they were tonight.

Even for the sake of Slytherin pride he just couldn't keep this up. He disentangled Krista from his lap and stood up; he was aware of her checking for any reaction in his trousers, apparently hoping that she had just been sitting at the wrong angle to feel it, and he almost smiled as he saw the realisation dawn in her eyes that she had felt nothing because there was nothing. He just wanted to go back to his room and clean his teeth for the next hour or so and wash the taste of tonight away for good.

Almost regretfully, he ran a hand over Krista's head; she had brown hair and hazel eyes, and maybe he could have closed his own eyes and pretended she was someone else, but something new and unknown inside him refused to let him take a substitute for the real thing. Sadly he acknowledged to himself that this time, it had to be all or nothing and it really looked like the result for him would be nothing.

'I'm going to bed Krista,' he said gently, 'Alone. It's been a long day. Take care of yourself, okay?'

His exit from the Common Room was so unexpected and sudden that it was a few moments before the other Slytherins realised that the shutting of Salazar's portrait meant that their Captain had left for the night. There were a few envious grumbles until they realised that Krista was still sitting in the chair where Draco had left her, alone.

Draco himself stopped as he entered the corridor and leant back against the wall berating himself for his foolishness. He could have had any girl he wanted tonight, sure in the knowledge that Pansy's hex was dismantled, so what did he do? Leave them all behind in preference of a lonely night in his bed thinking about a girl who didn't want him! He was so fucked up.

He had to move momentarily, for the swirling magic which made short work of the distance between his private room and the dungeons was not designed for people to remain stationary in. The magic fought against someone who did not move forwards with their destination in mind; a couple of moments spent ignoring the progressive motion of the magic and he was beginning to feel nauseous.

He pushed away from the wall and within seconds emerged into his bedroom heading for the bathroom to take a long drink of cold water until his stomach felt less like it was going to evacuate his supper, and brush his teeth vigorously for several minutes until he had removed the last traces of Pansy and Krista from his mouth.

A sudden noise outside the bathroom door sent him over to look out into the study area, and he saw Granger's large ginger cat perched on the back of one of the armchairs hissing at something which Draco could not see. He was surprised to find the animal free in the study area for Granger was careful to keep it away from any place where he might encounter it. He supposed that she feared for its safety, as she had such a low opinion of his prior behaviour. In reality, Draco rather liked cats; they reminded him of himself, so supremely snobby and stuck up. Or how he had used to be before this whole insanity with Granger started, anyway.

'Hello, fella,' he greeted, moving slowly towards the cat. It was really rather too large to be called a cat; more like a small dog in truth. Draco wondered if it had any kneazle in its ancestry. You're a very handsome boy, aren't you?' he asked as he approached, making sure to keep within the cat's sight at all times.

He thought it might be a good idea to make friends with Granger's cat; it could be a way to get a toe inside her life. He had a vague recollection of hearing that Weasley had a very bad relationship with Granger's cat; maybe it was something Pansy had told him way back when - he couldn't remember, but he was sure it was the truth.

The cat allowed him to approach and sit on one arm of the chair; it even deigned to allow him to rub it behind one ear. Draco was just persuading it to come and sit with him in the chair when Granger's bedroom door burst open and she caught sight of the animal perched on the chair back. Since Draco had now moved off the arm and onto the seat itself, he was totally concealed from her view by the high back of the chair, and he caught his breath at the thought that he was going to see her again today after all.

'Crookshanks, there you are,' she hissed in a stage whisper. 'What are you doing out here? He'll catch us both if you don't come back in here now! Come on!'

Draco shivered. It was unbelievable what just the sound of her voice could do to his equilibrium. The shrunken parts of his anatomy were swelling and growing just from hearing her scold her cat, for Merlin's sake! He could feel beads of sweat break out on his palms, and his heart was racing so fast he was surprised she could not hear it even over the sound of her cat purring.

The cat, Crookshanks, chose to ignore his mistresses commands, and to Draco's immense shock and even greater pleasure, it moved off the back of the chair and straight into his lap, where it sat purring loudly and began cleaning it's whiskers.

'Crooks!' he heard Granger hiss again, and when the cat continued to ignore her blandishments her footsteps began making their way carefully over towards their seat. Draco could barely think now for the thundering of his pulse. 'Crookshanks -' she began again as she rounded the edge of the seat and saw who was sitting there with her cat on his knee. Her face went white then red and a strangled squeak escaped her mouth before she clapped a hand over it.

The cat gave her a contemptuous look and leapt off Draco's knee marching back into Granger's room with his tail sticking straight up in the air, looking as disgusted as only a cat can.

Granger found her voice, barely. 'Malfoy,' she squeaked. 'I - uh, sorry about my cat. I don't usually let him come out here. I - ah - I'm not too sure how he got out tonight actually, but it won't happen again. I'll keep a closer eye on him. Um - well, goodnight, then -'

She was babbling; whilst drowning in his own uncertainty earlier he had forgotten that he unnerved her, too. 'That's okay, Granger,' he said, desperate to keep her there, 'I like cats - he's very large. Does he have some kneazel in him?'

She gave him an odd look and retreated several steps closer to her room. 'We're not sure,' she answered. 'They didn't say so in the pet shop where I got him, but we decided he must have a bit somewhere.' She backed up a couple more steps, and Draco leapt to his feet casting around for anything to make her stay longer; unfortunately the words which fell out of his mouth were the very ones guaranteed to put her hackles up, and he winced internally even as he heard himself speak. You dumb fuck, Malfoy! You had to ask her about the Quidditch match, didn't you?

'So, did you think it was a good game this afternoon Granger?' he asked.

She bristled immediately, her spine straightening and her eyes snapping at him. 'I imagine you would already know the answer to that, Malfoy,' she snapped, 'seeing as how we lost the game - to your House!'

He winced and grinned ruefully at her, 'Okay, you're right. That was a bit tactless, but I was just trying to make conversation. Open mouth, insert foot, you know how that goes...'

She gave him a searching look. 'No, Malfoy, I don't think that I do. What's going on here? What is all this about - all this weird jolliness and odd attempts at being friendly - and the - the other thing. What are you up to?'

Draco sighed. He knew that there was no getting round the way he had behaved for the first five years she had known him, and that asking her to overlook it and put the years of taunting and nastiness behind her was a lot to expect without any evidence of improvement.

'Nothing, Granger, really. I'm not plotting or planning anything. It's just - you were right, okay? That night we first talked about the Halloween party, and you said we should be mature and act like adults. We should be doing that, we have to work together for the rest of the year. Snape and McGonagall have stuck us with major NEWT projects together, and we're too old now to be constantly trying to one-up each other. It does set a bad example for the lower years. So let's just do it, then?'

Granger continued to watch him as though she had never seen him before. 'Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?' she asked at last. 'You know, I was quite prepared to be all those things you just mentioned, back in October when I suggested it to you, but you laughed at me, so you'll have to forgive me if I'm doubtful that you mean it now!'

'What are you talking about?' Draco asked, confused. 'I have never laughed at you at all this year. I certainly never laughed at you when you suggested we cooperate. I seem to remember we sat for hours that night and got a lot of planning achieved.'

'Yes you did,' Granger insisted. 'At the end, when I was going to my room, you were sitting there on the sofa laughing like a hyena.'

Draco tried to remember and finally placed the incident; he was astonished that she had thought he was laughing at her, although it would have been typical of behaviour in years gone by, so he really shouldn't be. 'That was - I wasn't -' How to even explain something like this? 'It was something personal I had thought of - nothing whatsoever to do with what we had been talking about. I didn't realise you had heard. Shall we make another attempt to be grown ups?'

She looked at him as if searching for lies, and he fought to keep the desire from his expression. Slowly, Draco, slowly, he chanted to himself. 'Okay,' she agreed finally. 'We'll give it a try being friendlier to each other. But no more - stuff. We can't do any of that anymore. I have - '

'A boyfriend, yes I know. The Weasel.' She nodded rapidly, and refused to look him in the eye. He was quite surprised that she didn't immediately leap to offense at his cannibalizing of the red head's name, but she seemed distracted. 'And there's a witch in Hogsmeade I've been seeing off and on for a while now,' he added impulsively, and was horrified even as he heard the words coming out of his mouth; for he had absolutely no idea what had prompted such a stupid lie.

She looked at him then, and he wondered if he actually saw her wince or if it was just wishful thinking on his behalf. 'Good, that's good,' she said bracingly. 'It'll be nice to be on friendlier terms, Malfoy. I'll see you tomorrow then?' and she smiled at him before turning into her room.

This time Draco made very sure to return to his room and shut and ward the door before he allowed himself to do a little dance of triumph around his bed.

*************

Pansy woke with an ringing headache. She was quite sure she had brought Draco back to her room last night, but she didn't feel any different from yesterday, and despite some thorough probing with her fingers, she could find no evidence of climax or ejaculation anywhere on her body. She buried her face into her pillow and tried to force herself to remember what had happened but it was all a big blank after she pulled Draco into the bedroom.

Eventually she forced herself out of bed and dragged her complaining body over to the dresser; she needed towels and a toothbrush, the shower was calling to her. As she pulled her large fluffy towels from the top drawer of her chest, she caught sight of her piece de resistance, her lovingly constructed alarm. She picked it up and frowned at it.

'What happened to you?' she asked turning it over in her hands. Shaking her head she picked her wand up from the floor where she had tossed it last night, and waved it once over the top of the brown lump. 'Alarmus reparo,' she muttered and watched as the purple colour began to bleed back into the model. 'There you are, all better!' she said, placing it reverently back on her dresser and left for the bathroom.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione paced her bedroom floor. It had been a week since the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and her peculiar new accord with Draco Malfoy. Despite their decision to be more civil to each other, she still couldn't help the prickling which broke out all over her body in his presence. So far they had managed to sit through four classes as project partners, and had talked solely about their assignments, so on the surface it would seem to be a success.

But although Malfoy's behaviour had been exemplary since their discussion, Hermione found herself unable to put aside her memories of the kisses they had shared the previous week. In Transfiguration, she found herself staring dreamily at his mouth; he tapped his quill against his teeth when he was concentrating, and Hermione could feel her breathing speed up at the memory of how he had used that mouth on her, how those teeth had nibbled on her bottom lip and then sucked it into his mouth, how hot and soft his tongue had been as it wrapped around hers encouraging her to explore the inside of his own mouth and of how good he tasted.

During Potions, she was forced to watch his hands as they sliced and stirred; he had contradictory hands - his fingers were long and elegant, the nails neatly manicured, yet there were calluses on his palms from the years of gripping his broom. Quidditch was hell on the hands, despite the heavy leather gloves. She had never before in her life fantasized about how it would feel to have another person's hands touching her body, but as she watched the motion of his fingers - his confident, assured movements as he measured and added ingredients to their cauldron, she was getting pictures inside her head of those same hands caressing over her bare skin with the same easy grace he showed in his potions work. An erotic image of how deep he could slide those long fingers inside her body and what he would do with them once they were there, was what had driven her to her pacing tonight.

It was incredibly difficult for her to concentrate on her share of the work whilst he was only inches away from her; her mind had never wandered away from her before during classes the way it did this week (well, maybe in Divination back in 3rd year - but that had been excusable, this definitely was not!)

She had returned to her room tonight shaken and undeniably aroused. In spite of the fact that Draco Malfoy might be just outside her door, she felt unable to go to the Gryffindor Tower in this state because she really had no idea what to do with Ron. For the first time in her life she was actually contemplating touching herself to relieve the ache of desire which had been throbbing between her legs for the whole afternoon.

The one thing which held her back was the memory of a disastrous attempt she had made to pleasure herself last term, when the relationship with Ron had begun to look like a real possibility. She had thought she should try to test out the waters, so to speak, by conjuring images of herself and Ron being physically intimate and using them to stimulate herself at the same time.

Unfortunately, the whole episode had been a disaster from start to finish. Hermione wondered afterwards if maybe she had planned it too analytically and set herself up to fail; but the truth of the matter was that her questing fingers had not located any of the hot spots which her previous roommates seemed to have such personal acquaintance with.

Hermione had certainly not intended to be listening as they giggled and gossiped about their sexual adventures, but sometimes it was unavoidable. After The Attempt, (in her mind it became capitalized soon after it's distressing failure) which produced almost no lubrication and had left her more embarrassed than aroused, she had decided that she was not a particularly sexual person, and had spent the next few weeks wondering if in the light of this discovery, it was actually worth even considering a relationship with Ron which went in any way beyond the deep and committed friendship they shared already.

Eventually, of course, she got over her failed attempt at masturbation, and as nothing had occurred romantically between her and Ron for the rest of that term or the duration of the summer holidays, she had almost forgotten her inability to get aroused by her thoughts of him. Consequently, what had been happening to her in the past six weeks had turned her previous preconception of her own sexuality - or lack thereof - on its ear, and she was understandably alarmed.

She was here alone in her single room, painfully aroused; she was fairly sure that if she tried something now she would find that she could produce some spectacular results. In fact, her knickers were so damp and sticky that they felt positively uncomfortable - so, no problem there with lubrication! The actual issue was that this was not caused by Ron but instead by totally the worst person possible, someone she absolutely hated, and Hermione refused to give in to her hormones. She had to have better control than this or how was she ever going to get through the rest of 7th year?

But as it happened, it turned out that Draco Malfoy was not her only physical problem and that was what was forcing her into a corner. Since their defeat on Saturday Ron had fluctuated between sulking and forced good humour; but he was constant in his attentions to Hermione, hugs and cuddles and affectionate kisses were lavished upon her distraught person, and she felt like she was going insane. Ron was not pushing her, that was not in his nature, but several recent comments he had made about the convenience of her single room had caused alarm bells and warning lights to start ringing in her head.

She had laid in her bed the past nights trying very hard to imagine sleeping with Ron in the staying awake sense of the word, but every time she closed her eyes and tried to picture them together sexually, her boyfriend morphed into a grey eyed, blond haired wizard right there inside her eyelids. The problem was that she simply couldn't imagine Ron ever making her feel the things that Draco Malfoy had that evening in Professor Snape's classroom.

He had set her alight like a match to kindling wood and the fire was still burning now. The unpalatable truth was that Draco Malfoy just did it for her, as Lavender so succinctly phrased it one night. Of course, if rumour were to be believed he also did it for the majority of the female population of the school.

She had to talk to Ron before it got worse than it already was. Before, God forbid, she did something really monumentally stupid, like moaning Malfoy's name when Ron kissed her. Heaven only knew how long it would be before she fucked up like that. He was always there between them; now whenever Ron touched her she could feel the phantom caress of the Head Boy overlaying anything Ron was doing, and while she could come up with absolutely no explanation for why he had kissed her once - let alone three times, the fact was that he had. And now her body knew what was missing from her relationship with Ron; knew what was missing and wanted it.

Hermione was too aroused to stay still in her room. She couldn't imagine what had prompted Professors Snape and McGonagall of all the teachers in the whole school to suddenly decide that she and Draco Malfoy should be work partners. In the previous six years, she couldn't remember a single occasion when such a thing had happened. Professor Snape periodically assigned Malfoy with either Ron or Harry; mostly Hermione thought, out of spite for Harry, and to enjoy watching him seethe as Malfoy antagonized him.

Although she had the utmost respect and admiration for the way their Potions teacher conducted his double-life she honestly thought that he acted worse than a three year old towards Harry at times. However, she could see her good opinion of him flying out of the window as a result of this latest insanity.

Throughout six years of school, Hermione had trusted her teachers implicitly (well, maybe except for that one small incident which was the whole of the first year, when she had thought that Snape was trying to kill Harry), having absolute faith in their knowledge and judgment; knowing that they were always acting in the students' best interests even when those students may have wished for more autonomy.

But she could not even begin to imagine how they thought that pairing her up with Draco and forcing her to spend hours at a time sitting beside him - unable to escape the tantalizing heat of his body, the scent of his (probably designer exclusive) cologne - could be of any benefit to anyone other than the psychiatric ward at St Mungos, were they actually looking for more patients.

Especially since Professor Snape did not seem any happier with the arrangement than she was herself. She had caught him more than once scowling in their direction from under his dark lashes with a broody scowl on his face, as if he was also trying to puzzle the problem out.

Professor McGonagall had also been watching her newest creation closely, but unlike Professor Snape who had continued to stare and scowl, the head of Gryffindor had quickly looked away, wearing a smug smirk worthy of Malfoy himself on her face whenever Hermione had caught her furtively studying them. It was very suspicious behaviour from both of them, and now Hermione was also worrying about that as well as her growing attraction to the Head Boy.

Hermione wanted control of her life back; she was not the type of person who could leap happily into uncharted space, and she hated the feeling that she currently had no control in several areas of her life. Well, there was one thing she could take charge of.

She had put off talking to Ron about their relationship for too long now, and this she could rectify. It had been a week since their defeat at the hands of Slytherin; she only hoped Ron had recovered enough of his self-esteem to cope with being knocked down once again.

Harry's post-game analysis had been brutal, but in the end he had been forced to point out that he had told them all beforehand the ways in which the Slytherin team had improved this year, and not to take a Gryffindor victory for granted. 'We will have greater respect for their abilities next time,' he had finished. 'I don't think we really considered them a serious threat - myself included - despite what we had seen with our own eyes during training and the pre-season games. This has been a wake-up call, and we can't afford to make the same mistake again!'

Although Harry apportioned no blame, as the keeper, Ron always felt responsible for any points the other team scored, flaying himself that he had been unable to guard the goal hoops adequately, and had let them in.

Strangely, after this victory - which was admittedly probably the most astounding Slytherin win in years, seeing as it had involved no fouling, cheating, bludger attacks or intimidation tactics and had resulted from skilled flying and !gasp! Teamwork - there had been almost no rendition of Weasley is our King from the Slytherin stands, for which fact Hermione had been profoundly grateful. Ron could beat himself up quite thoroughly with no help from them.

She had even allowed herself to wonder - just once, alone in the darkness of her room at night - if maybe Malfoy hadn't forbidden it, and to imagine that maybe, just possibly he had been influenced by that incredible, amazing, mind-blowing (unrepeatable) good luck kiss that she - she had given him before the game started. Probably not, but it was a measure of how low she had sunk that she wanted to believe it to be true so badly.

She hoped this would be a good time to catch Ron alone and deliver her proclamation; it was dinner time and nowadays he usually waited in the Common Room to walk down with her in case she had been tied up in mediation or other Head Girl duties. She hoped that the room would be mostly deserted with the other students already in the dining hall, and that she could be discrete and tactfully quick about it.

She had decided to blame her workload and imply that what she was looking for was a temporary break from the relationship just until her exams were out of the way. Ron would not like it - he would hate it, but it was the one reason he might actually believe to be true, and respect enough to give in graciously .

There was certainly no way she could tell him the truth. I can't keep going out with you, because every time you kiss me I want you to be someone else. I can't do this because he keeps kissing me and I want to do more, so much more than just kissing him. I want to wake up sweaty and naked next to him in the morning after hours and hours of earth-shattering sex (and it would be), and know that as soon as he's awake he'll take me again and again until we're both too exhausted to move, to even think. I have to stop seeing you because I want to shag Draco Malfoy until my head explodes and my brain starts leaking out of my ears.

Yeah, that would go down well.

Her own culpability notwithstanding, Hermione knew that this was not going to end well, and the only thing she could envisage to reduce the appalling fallout when everything went pear shaped was to lessen Ron's pain. No doubt he would be devastated by her decision, but how much worse would it hurt him the longer she left it and the more emotionally invested he became in their relationship?

She had been unable to protect herself, no matter how hard she had fought against what was happening to her, but she could still prevent Ron from receiving any more pain than could be helped, and she had to do it now.

She squared her shoulders and opened the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, closing her eyes as the passage swirled around her, and stepped into the tower. As she had expected, there were very few people there. Unfortunately however, it seemed that Harry and Ginny had both decided to wait with Ron for her to arrive. Hermione was unable to suppress the cringe which crossed her face when she saw them sitting there.

She was still suffering agonies of embarrassment every time she recalled her brief glimpse of what Harry was hiding beneath his robes, because of course that immediately led to images of what he had done to Ginny with it, and what she had ended up touching herself as a result of it.

Ginny, bless her, seemed to see the pained expression and read it correctly as a desire to have herself and Harry gone, although doubtless she couldn't have imagined that Hermione wanted to be alone with her brother so that she could rip his heart out and trample all over it. 'We'll see you at dinner,' she said hurriedly and dragged Harry protesting behind her out of the common room.

Ron frowned at Hermione, 'You look tense,' he said questioningly. 'Shall I give you a neck rub?'

Hermione groaned and dropped into a chair opposite him, head in her hands. How on earth could she be so mean to someone who was so very caring of her? She would bet all the Malfoy galleons that Draco had never offered Pansy Parkinson a neck rub because she looked tense. Good grief; he and Ron Weasley were not even the same species of human being - No, she reminded herself. She was not finishing with Ron for Malfoy; she was doing this for herself and for Ron- for herself so that she could live without guilt until the end of this year, and for Ron, because he deserved someone whose whole attention was focused on him and who was not being constantly distracted by lustful thoughts about other people. She didn't expect that the awareness of Malfoy would just go away like that, but she honestly thought that she would be better able to deal with it if her overlying guilt at cheating on Ron could be removed from the equation.

'Ron, I think we should stop seeing each other - um - romantically.' Well then, that didn't come out quite as she had planned it. Or, she hadn't really planned it at all; how do you make a plan to break someone's heart? For probably the first time in her life she had charged into a situation without the first idea of how she expected the outcome to be. She had simply opened her mouth and let the words fall out.

There was silence. She chanced a look at Ron from beneath her lashes and immediately wished she hadn't. He had gone a sickly pale colour, and his hazel eyes were wide with shock. Hermione wanted to say something but the words just wouldn't seem to come. 'Why, Hermione? What did I do wrong?' he asked at last, and Hermione had to answer.

'Nothing! Ron, how could you think so? It's just me. You're right - I am tense. I'm taking a lot of classes, and I have so many responsibilities that I'm getting stretched too thin. I was even thinking about asking for the Time Turner back,' now that the words had come they were flowing like water and Hermione couldn't believe the ease with which the appalling lies were spilling from her lips; it was as though a dam had broken. 'I don't want us to be another item I have to fit into a schedule. Oh, what's on this afternoon - 4.15 to 4.45; spend Quality Time with Ron; squished in there between counseling and making a patrol rota! When we're together it should be just the two of us with no other liabilities intruding on our time with each other, and I have found out it can't be like that this year. There isn't enough of me to go around.'

She looked at her distraught boyfriend with tears in her eyes; they were real tears - this conversation was breaking her heart. In that moment she hated Malfoy with a black loathing which she felt would never abate. 'Ron, I can't ask the students to wait, I can't ask the Professors to reschedule the NEWTS; the duties that are expected of the Head Girl have to be done. You are the only part of my life that I have any influence over right now, and I'm just asking you to respect that I need to wait until the end of this year before we take this any further together. When I'm with you, I want it to be completely and happily and free of any guilt because I had to put someone or something else before your needs,' two tears overflowed the edges of her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

'Ron, I have absolutely no right to ask you to wait for me, and I am not going to expect it, but I do know that the guilt I am having about how little of me I can give you, is pulling me in one direction too many for me to cope with right now. If you don't feel the same way next Summer I will always know that I probably just gave up one of best things that ever happened to me in my life, but at this moment in time, I am not capable of giving you what we both know you need and deserve, and that is not fair to either of us.' She sighed and got up from her seat. Ron had still not reacted at all; he seemed too shocked for speech. 'Please don't hate me, Ron,' she asked sadly. 'I need your friendship even more now that I have cut myself off from your love. I don't think it would be a good idea if I came down to dinner with you tonight, and I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me straight away, but please, Ron don't cut me out of your life for good. I couldn't bear it to think we could never be friends again; your friendship is what has sustained me through all my time here, and is the reason I have achieved everything I am today, and I do love you so much, but I just can't be with you right now.'

She had reached the portrait of Godric Gryffindor and was about to depart though it when Ron's voice halted her. 'Hermione,' he whispered, and she could hear that it was choked with tears, 'I do respect the pressure you're under, I have tried not to ask for any more than you have offered, and I won't - just as long as you don't do this. You need someone there to give you the love and support to help you make all the best decisions for the school. Why won't you let me be there for you? Why do you always have to do everything alone - it's no disgrace to need others to help you, and I want to do this. I don't want you shutting me out.'

Hermione didn't turn back; she was sure if she looked at his face one more time she would waver and weaken and then everything would be a million times worse. 'I can't Ron,' she said sadly. 'I have to do this on my own,' and the doorway snapped shut behind her, leaving her collapsed against the wall inside fighting her tears until the nausea became too much and she had to move.

*******

There was a loud banging on the door. Draco looked up from his potions text and wrinkled his nose. Although Dumbledore had never said anything about the Head Students' quarters being off limits to their friends and peers, he had certainly never invited anyone from his House there to socialise with him there. He was fairly sure that Granger hadn't either. After all, she was always up in that confounded Tower with the rest of those infernal Gryffindors anyway - why would she need to bring them here - unless she was sneaking that bloody Weasel in through the back door for a quick shag? Draco had never tried it, but he imagined that if someone was accompanied by the occupant, they would make it safely through the wards on the founder's portraits.

But this person was still hitting the front door and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Draco looked at Granger's bedroom door - no telling if she was even in there; if she was then surely she would have heard the noise and come out to see what all the racket was. Guess that left it down to him to find out what was going on.

He threw his quill down and uncurled himself from his seat. He had just taken a shower and his hair was still damp and curling into the despised waves which insisted on covering his head if he didn't ruthlessly slick it down with hair gel. He had on thin cotton pajama bottoms and a torn black tee shirt. It was hardly the appearance he would have chosen to present to any one of the numerous persons he imagined could be rattling on the door so vehemently. He pushed a hand though his hair in an attempt to control it, and marched to the door, muttering to himself.

'Ok!' he snapped as he flung the door open, 'Where's the damn fire? Some of us actually trying to work here! Oh, it's you. What do you want Weaselette?'

Ginny scowled at him; she looked to be in a fine temper, he could almost believe there were sparks flying from the ends of her flaming red hair. 'Not you, that's for sure Ferret-face,' she replied rudely. 'I need to speak to Hermione. Is she here?'

Draco swung the door wide open. 'Does it look like she's here,' he snapped as he displayed the empty study. 'Do I look like Granger's keeper? I thought she spent all her time up in your perfect little Gryffindor Tower. Why don't you go look for her there?'

'Believe me, she won't be there,' Ginny snapped coldly, pushing past him into the middle of the study. 'Where is her room?'

'Why don't you come on in, Miss Weasley, can I get you a cup of tea? Don't be shy, just make yourself at home,' Draco said sarcastically still looking out into the corridor where Ginny had previously been.

'Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy,' Ginny said. 'I'm not leaving until I've made sure she isn't here, so you might as well tell me which is her room. You don't want me poking into your private Slytherinny things, do you?'

Draco sighed. He knew when he was defeated; the youngest Weasley was scarily reminiscent of her mother, on the few brief occasions Draco could remember encountering Molly Weasley. He was suddenly visited with a new admiration for Harry Potter's balls if he was prepared to deal with this one on a daily basis. Of course, thinking of Potter's -ahem parts - led him to a totally unrelated memory of certain of Ginny Weasley's parts which had been so deliciously displayed on the Quidditch grounds last week, and he paused for a moment to appreciate again the picture in his head, and The Event that had followed it.

He was jerked out of his reverie by the sight of Ginny Weasley obviously giving up on getting an answer from him and marching off to locate Hermione without his assistance.

'Oi, Weasley - that door!' he yelled at her as she moved off towards his room and away from Granger's. She swerved in mid step without giving any other sign that she had heard him, and marched up to Hermione's bedroom door, knocking on it as loudly as she had been hitting the outside door moments earlier.

"Hermione, if you're in there, you open up! I need to talk to you,' she shouted through the thick wood, and Draco finally had time to wonder what had brought the youngest Weasley charging in here as if someone had set light to her broom. A few more loud thumps, and all of a sudden the door swung inwards to partially reveal a dimly lit room. There was no sign of the Head Girl herself, but Draco thought he heard a small voice mumbling an invitation to Ginny, and then the door was shut behind them both and Draco was sure he could feel the tingling aftershocks of silencing spells and privacy wards being cast in place around the room.

Now what was all that about?


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione and Ginny studied each other speculatively from opposite sides of the room. It was obvious that Ginny was here on behalf of her brother, and Hermione hoped it was not going to be the end of their friendship. It was one of the biggest risks she had taken by ending her relationship with Ron, and yet another thing to lay at Malfoy's door.

After six years of taunting and criticizing them, it seemed he had finally managed to break the Golden Trio up by doing nothing. Hermione knew that something would be irrevocably destroyed between the three of them by her actions this evening; the old ease and familiarity had gone, and it might possibly take years for the damage to be repaired. Certainly she doubted that it would happen before the end of the school year, leaving her future prospects for companionship looking very bleak indeed.

Harry would probably try not to take sides, but with Ron being the one hurting, and his own relationship with Ron's sister, it would be incredibly hard for him to be objective, or able to share himself equally between Hermione and Ron. Ginny was apparently the advance guard.

God, she hated Draco Malfoy. Except of course that she didn't, not anymore, and therein lay the problem.

Hermione waited cringing for Ginny to lay in to her; she had heard Molly in action often enough to have an idea of how it was going to sound, and in her opinion, Ginny had every right to be furious with her for playing with her brother's affections, and no amount of speculation on whether he had messed around with Luna Lovegood last year could justify how she had behaved this year.

Therefore it came as somewhat of a shock to her when Ginny did not immediately launch into a loud defense of her brother, but instead took a slow thoughtful look around the room, and asked, 'Did you choose the decorations for in here, or is this as they gave it to you?'

Not quite sure how to take this calmer version of a Weasley, Hermione answered cautiously, 'Um - I haven't changed much about the room, really. I just added a couple of my own things - the bookcase and the chairs there,' she pointed.

'It's very nice,' Ginny commented. 'You don't spend much time here; even though the study area out there seems very well equipped -' Hermione fought down a totally inappropriate image of exactly how well equipped the study and it's occupant were, as Ginny carried on, 'I think if I had a place like this all to myself I would want to be here getting my work done in peace and not in the Gryffindor Tower with all the noise and chaos.'

Hermione narrowed her eyes, 'Are you telling me to stay out of the common room, Ginny?' she asked baldly. 'We'd better just deal with this and not beat about the bush here.'

Ginny sighed. 'Ron is really hurting, Hermione,' she said. 'He doesn't understand why you want to try and cope with all this alone. We all know you've taken a lot on your plate this year. Most of the other 7th years are only doing four or five classes and you have - what is it - eight? - nine? Plus your Head Girl stuff. But is breaking up with Ron really the best solution you can think of? Why did you give him hope if you weren't serious about it? You know he's liked you since at least third year.'

Hermione sank onto the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands, 'Believe me Ginny, if here could have been a single scenario I could have come up with in which I didn't have to do this, I would have chosen it. I have been agonizing over this for weeks now, and I know that this is the fairest solution for Ron himself. I can't do what he wants of me at this point in my life, and if it means I loose my opportunity with him for good, it's the chance I have to take for where I am right now emotionally.'

Ginny sat beside her and sighed, looking at her feet. 'I'll be honest with you, Hermione,' she said sadly. 'I have never been entirely convinced that you and Ron would be the best match in the whole wizarding world. You fight like siblings, and I don't really think you both want the same things out of life after Hogwarts. But having said that, Ron seems to have convinced himself that you are what he wants, and I won't have you playing with his heart. My brother has a large inferiority complex; he's had to follow the other boys all his life, and then there's Harry. I don't think he's ever had the chance to shine for himself, and in my opinion he saw you as some kind of prize which he won away from Harry -'

Hermione started to protest at this, but Ginny shushed her. 'I don't mean that negatively,' she explained, 'But look back if you will - there was that article way back in your 4th year when that Skeeter woman tried to stir up trouble for Harry by using your friendship with Viktor. Do you remember how Mum reacted? She was cross because of Ron, you know - not Harry. She told me in the summer.'

Hermione looked aghast, and Ginny shook her head wryly. 'It's not so different here than in the Muggle world, you know,' she sighed. 'The press is just as dirty and people will always believe that there's no smoke without a fire. Most of the wizarding world in general expects you to end up with Harry, you know. You've always been beside him, supporting his skills with your strategy. It's just inevitable, they think. Me, they give no credence to at all. I'm just here marking time until you step up and take your rightful place as his consort.'

'Ginny!' Hermione was horrified. 'Merlin's Toenails, surely you don't imagine there's any truth in that speculation, do you?'

'Nah, of course not,' Ginny dismissed with a wave of her hand. 'I know who turns the Boy who Lived into the Man who Begs, but we're not talking about me here. I know Ron doesn't seriously believe all that rubbish either, but it's been very hard for him to constantly have it rammed down his throat from every angle how the girl he likes for himself is destined for another man - his own best friend. I think maybe if he hadn't spent so long wondering if all those rumour-mongers were right or not, that maybe he might have asked himself whether you actually were what he needs in a lover. But he hasn't had that luxury, and you have always appeared as something unattainable, which he finally got for himself, and now you've taken it all away from him.'

'Ginny - I'm not what he needs.' Hermione said suddenly realising it for herself even as she spoke the words. 'I do love him very much, both of them actually - and you, too. But I'm not in love with him, and I can't be at this point in my life. I don't know if it would be possible in the future when certain - problems - are out of the way; I think after we leave Hogwarts I will be able to see the situation more objectively, but whilst I'm where I am right now, I can't see any way for us to be together in the way he wants. He is very special to me and he deserves someone who can only see him.'

Ginny stared thoughtfully at her friend, wondering exactly what those last words had meant. It seemed an odd way for Hermione to express herself, yet Ginny couldn't imagine her actually being capable of cheating on Ron. Hermione was the epitome of the Gryffindor virgin; she had never looked at a boy other than Ron or Harry in all of six years; Viktor Krum hardly counted - subconsciously Hermione had no doubt picked him solely because of geography - he was far too far away to expect a real relationship to actually develop thus preserving the virginal image.

Ginny was fairly sure Hermione saw all the boys in Gryffindor, and probably the rest of the school also as totally a-sexual; she had never really dated although Ginny knew for a fact that Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw for one, had been interested in her for quite a while. Luna had mentioned more than once last year that Tony was hoping to become Head Boy just so that he would have the opportunity to spend more time with Hermione, but as usual Hermione was oblivious, and the current occupant of the outer study had put paid to Tony's academic hopes anyway. Although for the life of her, Ginny could not imagine what had possessed Dumbledore to award the Head Boy position to Draco Malfoy over the obviously superior Ravenclaw.

Ginny had therefore been quite pleasantly surprised to see Hermione becoming more physical with her brother, even though a wary voice at the back of her head had warned her right from the first day they walked into breakfast together, that something was off about the whole situation.

Although there was nothing she would have liked better than to welcome Hermione as part of the Weasley family, and take their quartet into the adult world outside of school, Ginny had always known a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that this was just a childish fantasy which would evaporate when confronted by the reality of work and responsibility.

Her enthusiasm the morning that Josephine, Mirabel and Suzie had come racing to the Gryffindor table at breakfast, and urgently whispered that they had seen the Head Girl snogging Ron Weasley in the common room had been comprised of a undeniable hope that she could have been wrong about their incompatibility, and also pleasure that Ron had finally been brave enough to go after what he wanted. She had ignored the little voice asking if he would still want it now that he had it, or if half of the appeal had not been in the unattainable.

It was all moot now anyway, as Hermione had seemingly realised their unsuitability for each other. Ginny suspected there was more to it that academic pressure; Hermione had not guarded her words carefully enough to deceive a female Weasley, even if she was saying she only wanted a temporary break. If she had any doubts before she came here tonight, Ginny was now convinced that they would not be reconciling again, and she resolved to try and ensure that Hermione did not suffer the loss of the loving relationship she had with the whole Weasley family, although she realised that Molly would be a harsh critic in the case.

She hoped that Ron would eventually come to see that Hermione's friendship was worth more than this small bump in the road; of course first there had to be the hurting and healing period. Ginny's priority now was to make sure that she and Hermione were clear on where each stood. Ron was still her brother, after all.

'Hermione, I think you're right about this actually. I would have loved for you to become my official sister, but I like to think I am clear-headed enough to see that you are not ready to commit yourself to Ron in the way I have to Harry -'

Hermione got a sudden picture of just how committed Ginny and Harry were and flushed uncontrollably. Whilst indulging in her own wallowing, she had momentarily forgotten that the girl sitting next to her on the bed was the same one who had stripped Harry Potter half naked 50 feet in the air and then proceeded to give him seeing-to that Hermione blushed to recall.

'I know it's not sensible to rush into a physical relationship immediately,' Ginny was saying when Hermione managed to tune back in to the younger girl's conversation, 'But I would have thought that this far along in a relationship you should at least be wanting to, even if the timing is not quite right.'

'Well, Ron was definitely ready,' Hermione mumbled. 'He - um - he kept making comments about single rooms, and I knew I couldn't put him off for ever. Actually that was one of the reasons I had to speak up now - It wasn't fair to lead him on, thinking that I was ready to sleep with him, when I'm -' actually thinking about sleeping with Malfoy '- not.'

'He hasn't been pressuring you, has he?' Ginny asked in sudden concern, as if a disturbing thought had suddenly occurred to her. 'If he has, I'll hex him into next year, brother or not. Men can be so stupid at times!'

'No, Ginny, of course he hasn't,' Hermione rushed to defend Ron, appalled that she might have given Ginny the idea that Ron was behaving like some kind of - of sexual predator. 'That's not his nature. He just let me know quite clearly how he felt, and I suppose he hoped it would make me feel the same, which it did - but it didn't at the same time. Ah, I'm not making this clear!' She sighed in frustration, and I can't possibly make the one confession which would clarify everything because that would mean admitting that I'd more than likely jump into bed with Malfoy if he so much crooked his little finger in my direction.

Ginny nodded her head in acceptance, and launched into a speech which made Hermione nervous with what it offered and expected in return. 'I will try and make sure that Ron doesn't sulk too much. I'll also tell him that you truly see this as something which will be over when you both leave school next year. I will not tell him that we both have doubts about whether you are right for each other. I will try and smooth over hurt feelings so that life is disrupted as little as possible. What I expect from you in return is that you never enter into a relationship with my brother again, unless you can be utterly and totally convinced that he is the love of your life and that you never want to spend another day apart from him until you are both cold in your graves, and even then you want to spend the afterlife with him. Okay, Hermione?'

Hermione was silent a moment to digest the whole concept. 'Yes, I agree with you,' she said finally. 'I never want to think I might be leading him on. If - when - I date Ron again, it will be for good.'

They both chose to ignore Hermione's slip of the tongue, and indulged in a brief hug of comfort. Ginny smiled and attempted to lighten the atmosphere in the room. 'Well, you know - I figure better to be sisters in our hearts than in nothing at all,' she said in a watery voice. 'Oh, and you mustn't hide up here, or people will start rumours again. I'll make sure that Ron doesn't cause a scene at breakfast, but you need to come down and sit with us to keep up image.'

Hermione gulped on a lump in her throat. She had been far too busy thinking of how she was doing Ron a disservice to consider the impact of their break-up on certain other parties. Dear God, did she want Malfoy to know she had stopped seeing Ron? What if he thought it was because of him? What if he knew? What did it matter, anyway? He was seeing someone in Hogsmeade; he had said so himself. He obviously preferred older witches, women who knew what they were doing. What could he possibly want with the oldest Gryffindor virgin in the whole school? Got to stop thinking about Him, she chanted to herself, You did this for Ron, not so you could have Malfoy. You don't even like each other.

*************

Draco was still sitting at his desk when he felt the surge of magic which accompanied wards being lifted, and Ginny emerged from the Head Girl's room. He refused to admit he had been waiting in the hopes of discovering what the urgent pow-wow had been about. His traitorous mind had led him down all kinds of titillating avenues; the Weaselette had been in such a fine fury when she arrived that a kernel of a hope had bloomed in his heart that there might be trouble brewing between the other irritating red-head and his beautiful Hermione.

And though he tried not to let that hope take a hold in his head, he couldn't think of another reason for the younger girl to be so worked up; he did honestly briefly consider several other scenarios (very briefly) before he gave up and let himself indulge in a fantasy where the Head Girl told Ronald Weasley that it was all over between them because she had realised the only person whose mouth she ever wanted kissing hers again was Draco Malfoy. He had even got as far as picturing himself slipping into her room as the Weaselette left and offering her his shoulder to cry on, which had led his active imagination down several delicious avenues all of which ended up with them both sweaty and naked in her bed whilst he 'comforted' her.

He fixed his gaze sideways on the door through the curtain of his lashes, and tried to look immersed in Arithmancy. What he saw sadly did not fit in at all with any of the implausible fantasies he had created whilst he was alone out here. Ginny turned to Hermione as they stood in the doorway and they embraced quickly and affectionately before Weasley stepped out into the study and Hermione retreated back into her room shutting the door quickly without ever emerging fully into view from behind the protection of the solid wood. Draco cursed that he was denied even this small sight of the object of his desire, and his heart sank into his boots, as he concluded that there would not be embracing and smiles if Hermione had just dumped Ron Weasley.

He growled his frustration, forgetting that the She-Weasel was still there. Ginny, for her part, squeaked and jumped as she realised that she was not alone in the study and her eyes flew warily to Draco as she edged towards the door. Poor Hermione, she thought as she looked at the scowling and irritated Head Boy, having to put up with him being out here constantly. No wonder she stays in her room, or comes to see us all the time!

Ginny herself had aspirations to become Head Girl next year; as she slipped across the study she tried to think of any boys in her year whom she would cringe to discover had been elected Head Boy, as Hermione must have when she heard of Malfoy's appointment. She was thankful when she realised that there wasn't anyone she could think of - not even any of the Slytherins, although there were none in her year with Malfoy's intellect - whom she would despair of working with for a whole year. Just seeing Malfoy out here increased her sympathies for Hermione. Her friend was right; she did have too much to deal with just now!

She was more than astonished therefore, when Malfoy actually instigated a conversation with her. 'You still here, Weaslette?' he asked without getting up from his desk. 'It's not long till curfew you know. Better scuttle along quick.'

'I'm going now, Ferret,' she replied tersely, and had reached the outer door when he added in a strangled voice as if the words were dragged from his throat by means of a propulsion charm, 'Everything all right in there, then?'

She stopped with her hand on the door handle and scowled at him. 'And exactly what business is it of yours, Malfoy? Hermione is my friend, and I don't think there's anything in the Head Student charter which says she can't have visitors as long as all curfews are adhered to. In fact, I'm pretty sure when my brothers were the Head Boy, they had office hours for other students in this very room.' By the end of her lecture she had planted her hands on her hips and was the image of her mother on the platform at the beginning of term.

Draco ground his teeth; it was at times like these that he remembered why as a rule he couldn't stand sanctimonious, righteous Gryffindors. 'Actually, Ginny,' he emphasized, 'As the Head Boy, it is my business to check on the welfare of the other students in school. As you just pointed out yourself in mentioning your brother's office hours. You can hardly expect to convince me that your precipitate arrival this evening was the manner in which you usually conduct yourself around Granger. Therefore I do not think it was unreasonable of me to show a natural concern that things were as they should be with you both.'

Ginny simply stared at him with an expression of disbelief. 'Merlin, Malfoy,' she said finally. 'What did you do, swallow a dictionary for breakfast? Save your posturing for someone who cares!' She whirled out of the door with these words, leaving it to make a satisfying crash into the frame.

Draco moaned and dropped his forehead onto his Arithmancy texts. 'That's the problem, Weasley,' he moaned into his homework. 'I do care. I fucking care!'


	22. Chapter 22

She had thought that terminating her relationship with Ron would relieve many of her worries, so realising that she now had to deal with how it appeared to Draco brought Hermione no peace at all. However, the alternative - trying to sustain the illusion that she was happy and everything was perfect - was also untenable and totally unfair to Ron, and she knew that she had done the right thing. But she only just now came to the realisation that without Ginny's visit and subsequent unexpected support, that she might have been seriously stuck between a rock and a hard place.

She stayed awake long into the night thinking, not about Ron, but about how she could exercise damage control with Draco Malfoy. It was imperative that she not give him any encouragement to think they should repeat the insanities of the past week; she honestly didn't think she was capable of resistance if he did it again.

And really, what did it say about his own moral conduct that he was going around kissing her, when he admitted to being involved with someone else - no matter if she was not actually physically present all the time. But that was typical Malfoy arrogance; he probably thought that both Hermione and this other poor witch should be grateful for any crumbs of attention he cast her way, and let him be free to do whatever (or whoever) he liked on his own time.

Surely he owed her his fidelity, or at the very least the courtesy that Hermione had just given Ron, of ending a courtship she was not fully committed to - or did they have what the Muggles called an 'open relationship'? Hermione didn't think she was the type of person who could manage something like that. She was far too emotional, would get too involved and end up being jealous, she was sure. (In fact from the uncomfortable aching in her chest she rather suspected she already was.) Nor was she prepared to be the third person in someone else's open relationship.

Breakfast the next morning was an awkward meal. Hermione had gone to the Gryffindor common room in deference to Ginny's manipulations of the situation. She had obviously spoken to her brother as promised for Ron had insisted on talking to Hermione for a brief moment alone; she had apologized again, and Ron had mumbled that he was aware of her reasons and that Ginny had done her best to explain Hermione's point of view. He had agreed to respect her decision whilst vehemently disagreeing with it, and had admitted that he thought he would need some time before he could be at ease with her again.

Hermione was on the verge of tears when he walked away to follow Harry, who had waited by the portrait hole with Ginny, discreetly trying to give them some privacy. She didn't deserve him to be so mature and courteous and Godamned nice about it. Ginny came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders and it was almost too much for Hermione's tenuous control; she sniffed hard and Ginny sighed.

'Would you have preferred him to yell at you and broadcast your business all over the whole school?' she asked.

'No,' Hermione admitted sadly. 'But he's being so damned good to me, and I don't deserve it. Why isn't he yelling and accusing? I feel bad enough about this as it is, and he's just making me feel like an absolute rat.'

'Well, keep that in mind when you're making your long term decisions later in the year,' Ginny advised. 'And remember, no rodents round here except for that Ferret you have to share with. Come on, let's get breakfast. Put on your brave face!'

Hermione reluctantly trailed after her friend down to the Great Hall. Ginny tried to keep up a conversation as they walked in the hopes of chasing the hunted expression from Hermione's face. If she walked around school looking like this for very long there would be no hiding what had happened.

'Harry thought it might be a good idea to call a full Quidditch practice after breakfast; keep Ron's mind occupied with other things. And of course we have a lot of credibility to win back after losing to that albino ferret last Saturday.' She shuddered. 'Merlin, Mione, doesn't he drive you nuts?' Hermione winced at the mental image Ginny's words conjured up, but was impressed by the irony of them. Oh, he drove her nuts alright, but she was sure Ginny could never imagine how he did it. She was brought back to the present as she heard her companion carrying on,

'I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking when he gave the Head Boy position to him. You would have been so much better suited to work with Tony or even Ernie. Malfoy was lurking about last night when I left your room you know, and it really made me stop and think about why you feel you need to focus on non-romance issues this year. It made things a lot clearer for me; I think it helped me get Ron to see your problems, too, it helps him to have Malfoy to blame it all on. How on earth do you cope with knowing he's right next door to you all the time?'

Hermione felt her stomach churn unpleasantly at Ginny's words; how ironic that she should place the blame directly where it truly lay yet for all the wrong reasons. She hadn't even considered that Malfoy would attempt to talk to Ginny as she left last night, and she could feel a prickling line of perspiration break out along the back of her neck as she imagined all the appalling things he could have revealed to Ginny in an unsupervised situation.

'What did he say to you?' she asked in a falsely casual voice.

'Oh, he was just being Malfoy,' Ginny dismissed, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She would not be so unconcerned if he had let slip anything about Hermione's recent unacceptable behaviour. 'You know - he lectured me about curfew and then tried to find out what we were talking about, but I told him where to go, and then he waffled some rubbish about the Head Boy's responsibility to the other students. The jerk! I've had two brothers who were Head Boys and even at his most pompous Percy was better than him!'

Hermione found a most surprising thing happening to her at Ginny's words; she actually felt indignant on Malfoy's behalf. She could feel an almost physical manifestation of hurt and annoyance tightening in her chest, and she only just managed to choke back some sharp words of defense by biting hard on her bottom lip. What on earth was the matter with her? Since when had she started taking criticisms of Draco Malfoy personally? When had it begun to hurt her feelings to hear people denigrating him? When she was finally sure that she wouldn't blurt out anything incriminating if she opened her mouth she managed to respond, 'He's trying -'

'Very!'

Ginny agreed promptly with a grin and a wink, but Hermione just turned away, unable to laugh with her friend over this, and Ginny patted her arm sympathetically thankfully taking her reticence as being related to her breakup with Ron, and nothing to do with Malfoy. 'Buck up, Mione,' she said bracingly. 'The worst bit is over now. The two of you just need to move forward now!' For a brief second Hermione thought she was being encouraged to pursue Malfoy, but realised quickly that Ginny meant to move past the awkwardness with Ron and try and recapture their previous friendship.In fact Ginny was operating on her own agenda; she fully intended to tell Luna that Hermione and her brother had parted ways. Luna was a good friend of hers, although many found her air of distraction annoying; and Ginny was fairly sure that Luna had been extremely interested in her brother for a couple of years now. There had been signs which Ginny had overlooked whilst hoping for Hermione to fall in love with Ron; that was not going to happen now, Ginny had accepted it.

However, she could encourage Luna to help mend a bruised heart and who knew what might become of it. Ginny recalled quite clearly how Luna had raced up to the Gryffindor common room after their defeat last weekend to make sure that Ron was okay, but had refused to come in and commiserate with him when she had seen that he was sitting with Hermione on his lap. There had been no change of expression on her face, but Ginny just knew that she had been hurt by the sight.

They arrived at the Gryffindor table just in time to hear Lavender squealing loudly, 'Oh, Merlin, look - it's come!' as she waved a pale blue parchment excitedly in the air. 'Parvati did you - oh, Hermione - have you got yours?' she called out as she saw Ginny and Hermione reach the table.

Hermione frowned, 'I don't know, Lavender, since I don't know what it is!' she replied.

'It was under my plate!' Lavender continued excitedly. 'Sit down quickly and take a look!' Hermione was pleased to have anything to take her mind off her current woes, and quickly slipped into a seat across from Harry and Ron. In a spirit of solidarity, Ginny took the seat beside her instead of next to Harry as usual, although she blew a quick kiss to him as she sat down. Ron looked away from this affectionate display unable to cope with it when he had lost his entitlement to blow kisses at someone. Hermione concentrated on lifting her plate to see if there was a corresponding letter beneath it.

'Lav,' Parvati called from further along the table. 'I got one, and so did Neville. Make sure the boys look, too.'

And so it was that at every table in the Great Hall that Saturday morning, 7th year students were lifting their breakfast plates and finding an intriguing blue parchment beneath it. Hermione noticed that the seal was the same Hogwarts seal which graced all their correspondence from the school during the holidays, and decided it must be an official communication regarding their NEWTS or some such. It was awfully pretty paper though.

She broke the seal and unfolded the letter, along with many of her classmates who had just found their own letters, and soon Lavender's squeals were being echoed at every table even Slytherin, who mostly perceived themselves as being above theatrics in front of the whole school.

Hermione read the words blankly at first, and then for a second time:

The Faculty and Governors of

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

And

The Ministry of Magic

Invites Miss Hermione Granger to the Second Annual

Seventh Year Social Evening

Saturday December 14th at 7.30pm

Felton Arms Inn

Hogsmeade

Dress: Formal Robes RSVP

'Just think, Hermione,' Lavender was babbling at her now. 'Last year the 7th form had it here in the Great Hall I wonder why they've changed it to a Hotel in Hogsmeade? It's a very posh hotel. That's where Neville's Gran stays when she comes to visit. You know how fussy she is!'

Neville nodded his head vigorously from further along the table. Like many of her peers, Hermione had never set foot inside the expensive Hotel set at the end of a quietly exclusive street in the middle of Hogsmeade; it was not the kind of place which encouraged butterbeer-drinking students winding down after classes. She was sure however, that along with Mrs Longbottom, it had also played host to the parents of many of the older-moneyed students in the school. The Malfoys probably had their own personal suite, or had before the little issue with Azkaban.

Hermione wasn't sure why they would make such an odd decision either, but felt an overwhelming relief that it had happened thus. A place like the Felton Arms was sure to have a full and experienced function staff, and therefore she and Malfoy would need to have very little involvement with the organization other than turning up on the night. She knew they had agreed to be more civil, but that didn't mean she had been looking forward to arranging yet another social event with him. Since this dinner was restricted solely to the 7th year, there had been no way in which she could have assigned any of the other prefects to work with Draco with a clear conscience, when they would not have been receiving the benefit of attending the results of their efforts.

' - why do you think, Hermione?' She was brought out of her contemplations by Ginny's voice asking her the question. Unwilling to admit she had completely missed the last part of the conversation, she cast around quickly for the last thing she remembered before drifting off into her own thoughts.

'Um, well I imagine it's for the convenience of the Ministry,' she said finally. 'Last year all the Ministers and officials who came stayed there, so I imagine they must have complained about traveling afterwards. I suppose they decided we were younger and much more suited to driving to and from Hogwarts in the snow or whatever.'

'Hmm, maybe,' Ginny replied in a disgruntled voice, and Hermione realised that she was not at all happy at the thought of Harry attending such a occasion without her.

'Don't worry, Ginny,' she said glad to be able to be the one doing the comforting for once. It seemed like this whole year had been taken up with obsessing over her own problems; it was a nice change to think about someone else's for once. 'I'll make sure Harry behaves himself, and after all, your Dad will probably be one of the Ministers attending. Could you really enjoy yourself with Harry with him watching your every move. Bad enough that Ron hovers over you two like a hawk, without being on display for your father, too.'

Ginny actually giggled at that, drawing Harry's attention from the other side of the table. A silent signal seemed to pass between the lovers and Ginny rose with an apologetic look to Hermione. 'I'd better go. We've got to have that practice Harry wanted.' She got up and followed Neale, Alex, Harry and her brother who were already making their way out of the Hall.

Hermione returned her attention to the pale blue parchment in her hand so she did not see Ginny stop at the Ravenclaw table and quickly mutter something in Luna Lovegood's ear before she followed her team mates. 'Formal robes,' she muttered to herself, wondering if she could still fit in the nice blue ones she had purchased for the Yule Ball in 4th year. She didn't think she had grown overly in height since then, but she doubted she could get her chest to stay put; at fourteen she had been a lot flatter than she was at eighteen. Which meant shopping, which meant a Lavender and Parvati expedition. She was far too familiar with her previous dorm- mates to imagine they would let an opportunity like this pass them by.

Sure enough she could already see Parvati watching her speculatively from her seat slightly further down the table. She winced as Parvati leant around Neville and opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she had been about to say was miraculously nipped in the bud as the Headmaster stood up at the staff table and cleared his throat expectantly.

'I see that most of our 7th years have now received their invitations,' he began. 'As this is a very new celebration, we have no traditions formed as of yet, so this year we - the Governors, the Ministry and I - have decided to experiment a little and have an off-site function. If we decide that the logistics and safety issues are insurmountable, we will return to Hogwarts next year. We have a few weeks to organise a truly memorable event, one which I hope will reside, alongside our recent spectacular Halloween Ball, in your fond memories for many years to come. I am sure that this will also give certain of our more fashion conscious 7th years plenty of time to attire themselves suitably for the occasion,' Lavender squeaked as Dumbledore's twinkling gaze settled upon the Gryffindor table, and Hermione bowed her head to hide the totally Malfoyesque smirk which ran across her features at his action.

Her head shot up very quickly indeed however, when Dumbledore concluded his speech with a command, 'If the Head Girl and Boy would please meet me in my office in fifteen minutes? That will be all, thank you.'

For the first time that morning, Hermione allowed her eyes to travel to the Slytherin table and search out her nemesis. He was there, between his two - between Crabbe and Goyle; Hermione found it disturbing that she could not think of the two large Slytherin boys as merely Malfoy's muscle anymore. Not since Pansy had let slip her venomous opinion of Draco's mentoring relationship with the pair of them.

She watched the three of them carefully under hooded lashes, trying not to get caught looking. Crabbe was waving his blue parchment in Draco's face pointing at it, and seemed to be complaining unhappily about something, Goyle was scratching the end of his nose with his own which did not appear to have even been opened. Pansy herself was watching them from further down the table with a hungry expression on her face as she gazed at Draco. Hermione fervently hoped that she did not look like that when she was watching him, too. Under Hermione's cautious eye, a tall good-looking dark haired boy got up and wandered down to Malfoy's end of the table. Blaise Zabini, Hermione recognised, a strange Slytherin - sly and quiet - he was not like the others in their overt hostility, but a snake is a always a snake. Zabini stopped behind Malfoy and said something brief which caused all four boys to start laughing loudly.

Hermione swallowed a sudden obstruction in her throat; over the years she had not seen Malfoy give in to spontaneous relaxed laughter very often - mostly it was sarcastic smirking - but seeing him sitting casually with his friends enjoying a genuine amusing moment made her heart flutter stupidly and caused that uncomfortable tingly feeling to start between her legs again. Why did he have to be so bloody gorgeous when he was smiling she thought sulkily, refusing to look at him again.

She stared at the remains of her breakfast - admittedly she hadn't eaten very much distracted as she was by her break up and the presence of the blue parchment; consequently when all conversation around her at the table suddenly tapered off to a halt, she looked up in surprise to see what was the matter only to find most of the other Gryffindors staring behind her with varying degrees of suspicion or shock.

She spun around quickly and almost smashed her face into Malfoy's stomach, for he was standing directly behind her seat. She wondered briefly why her seemingly extra-sensitive Malfoy radar had failed to let her know he was coming, but realised that her body probably couldn't differentiate these days since she seemed to get turned on just by thinking about him now, without even requiring his actual presence. She shut her eyes and took what she hoped looked like a deep calming breath. So what if she was the only one who knew she was savoring the wonderful warm citrus musk scent of his body; hopefully to everyone else it seemed like a soothing inhalation to control her temper.

She wondered for a brief hysterical moment what would happen if she just laid her head against the soft grey wool of his jumper and let it rest there. The idea was so inviting that she almost began leaning forwards, but his words broke her trance and she shuddered as a shocking image of the fall-out that would occur over that bit of insanity made itself known in her mind.

'Granger, the Headmaster wanted to see us?' he prompted, and she nodded, taking a shuddering breath. New initiative; we're being civilized, remember. That's why he came over here! She chanted to herself as she tried to gather her scattered thoughts.

'I'll see you guys later,' she said to the rest of the Gryffindors when they all seemed to be staring at her expecting something more. She stood up from the bench and turned to join Malfoy, but his presence and the tantalizing scent of his body had apparently destroyed her coordination and she tripped over her feet as she moved towards him. He caught her elbow with a seeker's reflexes and she felt the contact from the tips of her toes to the frizzy ends of her curly hair, and she let out an uncontrollable moan.

Malfoy frowned at her, 'What's wrong, Granger? Did you twist your ankle?' he asked with faux concern, and she shook her head quickly seeing that Neville and Dean were starting to rise from the table also.

'No - no. I'm fine,' she babbled quickly. 'Indigestion - that's it. I must have eaten too fast. Come on, the Headmaster doesn't like to be kept waiting.' She moved off quickly trying to ignore Lavender's skeptical gaze, knowing full well that the other girl was quite aware that Hermione had not eaten enough to cause discomfort of that nature.

They walked in relative silence to the Headmaster's office. Malfoy asked if everything had been alright the previous evening, but on receiving a grunt in reply, made no further effort at conversation. They stopped at the gargoyle and Hermione gave the password; she had not forgotten how Malfoy had overrun her last time they had been called to a meeting with Dumbledore, and she was determined not to let it happen again.

'Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy!' Dumbledore always sounded so damned happy to see them. As if he had been waiting for this moment all his life. 'Please, take a seat. We must have a quick discussion about the preparations for the Christmas dinner.'

Hermione glanced around the study and noted that the miniscule blue sofa was back in front of the Headmaster's desk. She sighed and subsided into it with resignation. Draco sat beside her and she could feel tingles all along her right side where he was almost touching her.

Dumbledore settled himself in his seat before them, and rested his chin on his folded hands. 'As you know,' he began seriously, 'The 7th year Social is an event we introduced last year for the senior class as a sample, if you like, of social expectations in the adult world. I am fully aware that many of your peers may be upset that they cannot invite their significant other from lower years, but that is part of the purpose of the exercise.'

Hermione and Draco nodded, unsure if any input was expected of them at this point. 'For this event, there will be no dating,' the Headmaster continued. 'Like in any event you may be required to attend as an employee, an ambassador or guest, a seating plan will be provided, directing you where to sit. You will be expected to hold polite social conversations with your dinner companions regardless of House or affiliation.'

Professor Dumbledore paused dramatically and added with a definite twinkle. 'Everyone's invitation has been charmed with the name of a subject which will be revealed individually to the guest. This is a topic which you are required to study up on before the event so that you can intelligently converse about it; and the Governors, the faculty and other official guests will be mingling with you to discover if you have managed to master the art of what I believe the Muggles call 'small talk'?' He raised an eyebrow at Hermione who choked out a muffled agreement.

Draco nodded thoughtfully, 'So that's why Vince's invitation said greyhound racing,' he muttered to himself, reflecting back to breakfast when the three of them had studied the parchment trying to decide why such an odd phrase should have manifested itself on to Crabbe's invitation.

'Ah, indeed,' Dumbledore agreed. 'I imagine that some people will have already received their study topics; the charm was quite cleverly set to recognise how much time one would need for his or her research. I suspect that quite a few students will have already discovered curious words on their invitations. You will have to impart these instructions to the rest of your year fairly quickly then.

'As to our decision to hold the event at a hotel in Hogsmeade, well that is only by way of an experiment. We all felt that the environs of Hogwarts and the Great Hall are too familiar to you all to really present the atmosphere that we are trying to capture. Of course as with any kind of field trip -' here he looked again to Hermione to confirm his correct usage of the Muggle terminology - 'we appreciate that there will be extra security necessary. It has therefore been decided that there will be a contingent of Aurors present as part of the Ministry party. However, these individuals will be mingling with you and seated amongst you, just as if they were regular guests at the event.

'It just remains for me to say however, that first and foremost I want you to enjoy this experience. I believe it will be broadening and enriching for you all, but the pursuit of pleasure should not preclude the acquisition of knowledge, and to that end this event will be a graded learning experience. Any inappropriate behaviour or childish grudges which affect the evening will result in a failing mark against your records. I trust you will express this fact quite clearly to your peers.'

Hermione and Draco both nodded fervently, neither having had any expectations of this kind before they entered the Headmaster's study this morning. In fact, Hermione could clearly recall a brief chat with Cho Chang about the inaugural 7th Year Social the previous Christmas, and she knew that the other girl had not mentioned any of these requirements to her.

'Excellent, splendid!' Dumbledore said smiling broadly. 'Well then, I suggest you run off now and get ready, Dilman Pringle is expecting you at one o'clock.'

Hermione, who had been halfway out of her seat, froze in place casting the Headmaster a baffled glance, and Draco who had not yet attempted to rise as he was trying to work out how to conceal his erection managed to voice on both their behalves, 'Er - who?'

'Mr Dilman Pringle,' Dumbledore beamed even wider if that were possible. 'Mr Pringle is the Function Manager for the Felton Arms. He is a vastly experienced event coordinator, and will be your liaison as you organise the party. Make sure you use his experience to the fullest; ask his advice on menus, seating, accommodations for the out-of-town guests - he is there to make sure that everything goes smoothly for you both. I'll send a coach for you at 12.30, unless you'd rather walk to the village?'


	23. Chapter 23

'Well,' Draco said as they left the Headmaster's office. 'That was - unexpected.' Hermione fought the instinctive need to leap to the defensive. Civilized - we're being civilized, she chanted You have to forget that his mouth ever touched yours. Now you're just two people getting a job done.

'Yes,' she agreed stiffly. She couldn't manage to slip on the mantle of professionalism as easily as Malfoy could. It felt awkward and unwieldy trying to be polite around him. He was the sort of person who inspired volatile emotions in others; it had been hatred at one time and now it was - lust? Passion? She wasn't sure which, but it was undeniably difficult for her to behave as if they were simply two people carrying out an assignment professionally. She envied Malfoy his ability to turn off his emotions at will. Or maybe that was the difference; for him there had been no emotions involved - whereas she, fool that she was, had allowed him to get under her skin and now he couldn't be ejected.

Draco studied her sideways reading from the rigid set of her spine that there would be no point in trying to approach her now. 'I'll go and get the word out to the rest of my guys about this new - development,' he said deciding discretion was the better part of valour. 'I'll meet you by the main doors at 12.30 then?'

Hermione stiffened her spine visibly and took a calming breath before replying neutrally, 'Yes. I'll go along to the library and see if I can find any of the Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws and get the message over to them, also.' And then she was gone; before Draco had the chance to open his mouth she had disappeared around the corner and out of sight.

Hermione didn't relax her rigid stance until she reached the doors to the library, where she collapsed momentarily against the wall before entering. She tried to decide if the encounter with Malfoy had gone well or not. Eventually, she settled on yes. Her own shortcomings aside, the morning could easily have taken a much worse turn; Ron was hurt but coping and Malfoy was being cool and remotely polite again. On the whole, a far better result than she could have hoped for. Of course, she still had to deal with an afternoon in his unrelieved company, but as long as he didn't tempt her she felt able to say she probably wouldn't actually jump him on her own.

She unrolled her own invitation again, and examined it to see if any topic had manifested itself there since breakfast, but it still only showed the words which had been there before. Sighing, she put it back into her pocket, and pushed open the library doors.

Madam Pince looked up from her desk to see who had entered, and gave Hermione a small nod of acknowledgment. Hermione managed to pull her mouth into something resembling a smile and returned the greeting. As she had hoped, there were a couple of Ravenclaw students sitting at tables working on their assignments. Aside from Hermione herself, the Ravenclaws spent the most time in the library of all the houses.

Luna was sitting beside Anthony Goldstein immersed in a whispered but seemingly intense conversation, when Hermione spotted them. As soon as Luna looked up and saw her approaching, she began to collect her books together; by the time Hermione had reached the table, Luna was on her feet and preparing to depart. She gave Hermione a large abstracted smile and disappeared accompanied by a jingling sound from her over-sized earrings.

Hermione wondered why Luna would rush off as soon as she appeared. Had she already heard about the break up with Ron, and decided to ostracize Hermione? Was this the kind of reaction she could expect from the student body in general? She sat down opposite Tony and sighed again.

'Hello, Hermione,' he said, and she looked at him suspiciously. He also seemed to have an odd expression on his face. Damn.

'Hello, Tony,' she replied, trying to act as normally as it's possible to act when you have suddenly developed a paranoid belief that everyone is talking about you behind your back. 'Did you receive your invitation for the Christmas Dinner?' He nodded, apparently surprised at this topic of conversation. 'May I see it?' she continued, taking her own out and laying it on the table between them.

'Um - sure, let me get it,' Tony said, pulling his book bag towards him. 'I poked it in here somewhere after breakfast.' He rifled through the contents of his bag pulling several text books out onto the table before coming up with the required parchment. He passed it to Hermione who opened it and laid it beside her own. Like hers, Tony's only contained the actual words of the invitation, with his name in place of hers.

'Professor Dumbledore just had Malfoy and I come to his office to talk about this event,' Hermione explained. 'Apparently, it's not as innocuous as it seems. Instead of being just an entertainment, the party is actually part of our graded school work to complete 7th year -'

'It's what?' Tony asked surprised, now totally immersed in what Hermione was telling him and seemingly forgetting any rumours he might have been hearing. 'How can we be marked on a Christmas party?'

'Well, he didn't exactly say how we'd be marked, just that there were certain expectations of us when we are attending - and he didn't mean just behaving appropriately and not hexing the Slytherins while they aren't looking,' she grumbled darkly. Tony couldn't prevent the small grin from breaking over his face at her words. 'Everyone's invitation has been charmed with a dinner conversation topic. It's our assignment to research this subject in detail so that we can carry on polite small-talk about it during the event. There is a charm which will reveal your topic supposedly in time for the dinner. Some of them have already manifested; according to Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe has to study up on greyhound racing - it's a kind of Muggle dog, very sleek and fast. People place bets on races at dog tracks, and win money,' she explained, off Tony's confused look.

Tony suddenly broke out into laughter, earning them a quick reprimand from Madam Pince, and he tried to stifle his mirth. 'I'm sorry, Hermione,' he gasped, 'But you have to admit the idea of Crabbe having to research a Muggle sporting event is kind of funny! He's in my Muggle Studies class, you know, and he just doesn't get it. Will they all be Muggle topics, do you think?'

'I really have no idea. Mine hasn't shown itself yet, nor has yours by the look of it. Dumbledore said that the staff, the Governors and the Ministry guests would be passing around chatting with us to make sure we've done the assignment. I expect Arthur Weasley will be in charge of the Muggle testing. Anyway, I needed to tell you so that you could pass it on to your house, otherwise they might be a bit confused when random phrases start popping up on their invites. I need to find someone from Hufflepuff as well.' She sighed, and he became serious for a moment.

'How are you doing with Malfoy, Hermione?' he asked. 'Is he pulling his weigh this year? It seems like it's you off running Dumbledore's errands. Where's he gone?'

'Oh, he went to tell the Slytherins. It's not like anyone of them would be accessible to me anyway. They hardly come to the library or mix with the rest of the school unless they have to, and it's not like I could get into their Common Room to tell them anything. So he's gotten charge of his House.'

'That's not what I asked, Hermione,' Tony pressed firmly.

Hermione groaned inwardly. Why was it that she couldn't go a whole thirty minutes without having to talk about Malfoy again? 'I'm sorry you didn't get the Head Boy, Tony,' she said truthfully. 'I think you would have done an excellent job, and I would have liked to work with you, but we have to make the best of what life throws our way, and it threw me Malfoy.' She reached across the table and squeezed Tony's hand briefly, smiling as his cheeks flushed either with pleasure at her praise or embarrassment at her actions, she couldn't tell.

'And actually, I suppose he really hasn't been that bad. The Halloween party genuinely was all his work, as you must know. You were there during the preparations. He has toned down a lot of the insults this year; I haven't seen as much of the pureblood rubbish as before. We had a talk and decided to be civilized. Dumbledore did threaten us at the beginning of term, you know, to make sure we got on with the job. Maybe he took it to heart.' It was oddly refreshing to be able to get her confused thoughts about her working relationship with Malfoy out into the open to someone who didn't have an instinctive knee-jerk defamatory reaction to hearing the name.

'Well - er, that's good - um, isn't it?' Tony stuttered out is response to her words, and she grinned at him, thinking how sweet it was that her compliment had made him so flustered. Working with Anthony Goldstein would have been an entirely different experience than the one she was living now.

Hermione took a look at the time and said, 'You know, with this being at a hotel in Hogsmeade and all, I had thought there wouldn't be as much organizing to be done, but Professor Dumbledore has made an appointment for us to visit the function coordinator for the Felton Arms this afternoon to select menus and make seating plans. I have absolutely no idea what we're supposed to say to this man; I've never done anything like this before. It must be something like arranging a wedding.' She stood up, 'This was nice, Tony. Thanks for listening to me; if you should see Ernie or Hannah or any of the others could you pass the word on for me in Hufflepuff?'

Tony immediately stood up also, gathering his books and pushing them into his bag. 'Why don't we go to lunch now?' he said. 'You should probably eat something before you go to the village, and we'll be sure to see someone at the Hufflepuff table we can give instructions to.'

Hermione tilted her head to one side thoughtfully, 'That seems like the sensible solution,' she agreed. 'I haven't actually told anyone in my house either yet - they were having a Quidditch practice this morning, and I didn't think they'd be finished yet when we left the Headmaster's office. But they'll be hungry after training, so I expect that's where we'll find them, too.'

They said goodbye to the librarian as they exited and made their way back down to the Great Hall chatting easily. Hermione had always found Tony to be an intelligent friendly boy, and was sure that if the sorting hat had decided to place her in Ravenclaw after all , that they would have become good friends. However, her six years of strategizing for the Boy-who-Lived had left little time for forming friendships outside their self-contained unit. Now, with her break up from Ron looming over their triad and threatening to tear them all apart, Hermione began to regret not broadening her circle of friends when she had the opportunity.

Tony opened the doors to the Great Hall for her to precede him, and on mutual agreement, he walked over to the Hufflepuff table and asked Ernie MacMillan to join them both at the Gryffindor table. Parvati and Lavender were already scribbling on napkins, designing outfits to wear, leaving Neville, Dean and Seamus to talk amongst themselves. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just entered the showers according to Seamus who had left them momentarily to come to lunch. Tony sat beside Hermione and Ernie took a seat opposite as Hermione explained again Dumbledore's directions for the party. They all pulled their invitations out and took another look to see if any subjects had appeared.

Neville had been assigned Italian cookery, Lavender had Russia and Parvati had Dragon taming. Lavender and Parvati promptly burst into tears, wailing that they couldn't possibly find enough about their subjects and that they were going to Fail Parties! Even Neville looked a little green at his choice. Cookery seemed a little too close to Potions in his mind; all stirring and measuring and preparation, and as Professor Snape would tell anyone who cared to listen, Longbottom had never been much of a potions student.

Hermione and Tony shared a quick amused glance at the reactions of their peers and Hermione felt her spirits unaccountably lifted by the exchange. 'I don't think it's so much about getting it right,' Hermione tried to soothe. 'It's more about making the effort and expressing your opinions with confidence in a social setting.'

'Easy for you to say,' Lavender mumbled darkly, 'When you know everything about everything anyway,' and Parvati nodded supportively.

*************

Draco was sitting between Vince and Greg when the door opened and Granger appeared with Anthony Goldstein in tow. Greg's invitation had revealed that he needed to research kangaroos when he finally stopped using it as a nose scratcher and opened it up. Draco had ensured that all his Slytherins were aware of what was expected of them, and had made suggestions as to where they could find books to aid their studies. He wasn't going to have his house shown up by all those brainy Ravenclaws, and he was sure that Granger would do most of the research for those idiot Gryffinroars of hers.

He himself still had not been given a subject, but he secretly hoped for a Muggle topic. He really wanted to try out something that Professor DiBona had been teaching about last week, called the internet. Apparently the answer to all questions could be found within this miracle of technology, and he was sure he could persuade the Professor to let him use her password. He was the favourite student after all, even if as yet he didn't quite understand what this internet actually did, or where it stored all of its information.

As usual, once Granger was in the room, everything else faded into a blur around the periphery of his concentration. His eyes hungrily followed her every move, as she parted company from Goldstein and went to her own table. Except that Goldstein only detoured to the Hufflepuff table, and after a brief word returned to Granger's side with one of their 7th year prefects accompanying him. He further proceeded to infuriate Draco by sitting beside Hermione and apparently helping her explain the charm and the party instructions to the Hufflepuff and those 7th year Gryffindors currently present at the table.

Draco actually understood the phrase 'seeing red' when his Hermione turned to Goldstein and they shared a conspiratorial grin over the reaction of the other two 7th year Gryffindor girls. As if it wasn't hard enough watching her cuddle up to that revolting red head, now he had to watch her bestowing her sparkling smile on a bloody Ravenclaw!

'Blaise!' he hissed down the table to where Zabini sat talking to a couple of 6th year girls. Blaise smiled charmingly at his companions, and shuffled along the bench so that he was sitting in front of Draco. 'What's up with Goldstein these days?' Draco asked quietly, forcing himself not to look at the Gryffindor table. 'He's been really huffy with me lately, and we never used to be on particularly bad terms.'

Blaise thought for a moment, and then turned slowly to search the room. He nodded knowingly when he found the person in question sitting with the Gryffindors. 'He's just jealous, I suspect.'

Draco looked momentarily baffled. 'Because I got Head Boy?' he asked. 'I wouldn't have had him pegged for being petty over something like that.'

Blaise shook his head. 'No, not that. Well, yes and no - but not entirely. He definitely wanted Head Boy, but he also had an ulterior motive - he's had the hots for Granger for quite a while now. I imagine he would have like the opportunity to spend a lot more time with her this year, if you get my meaning? I guess he's just annoyed at the injustice of it. You get the job, and the girl - well, metaphorically speaking. I would have thought he'd have stopped sulking when she hooked up with Ron Weasley though, took herself out of the running.'

Draco barely heard the end of Blaise's sentence. He had to pull out his invitation again to give his shaking hands something to occupy themselves; he was on the verge of giving himself away and he knew it. He had barely enough common sense left to hold himself in his seat. Two months ago he would have laughed at the very idea of there being two guys - and himself - competing for the affections of Hermione Granger, and yet here he was today, ready to rip the head off a boy he had never especially disliked - had even respected in a abstract way - because he had dared to assume he could approach Granger as more than a friend. How dare he make a move on a girl who was already taken?

Watching them now with the insight of Blaise's information, Draco could see clearly how Goldstein was trying to move in on Hermione. It was screamingly obvious in his body language; the way he leant towards her as she spoke, whispered little comments for her hearing only. That shared smile he had caught moments before assumed an alarming significance when considered in the light of this new knowledge. Was Goldstein actually trying to break Hermione and the Weasel up?

But would that actually be a bad thing?

The little voice piped up; you want Granger and Weasely separated don't you. Why not let Goldstein do the dirty work, and then you can just nip in and claim the prize. As an idea it was typically Slytherin in nature; it had the added benefit of making Goldstein the villain, and leaving Draco's way cleared of obstacles with no blame being attached to him. He was quite sure that the honorable Ravenclaw boy had not laid a finger on Hermione, but was just languishing from afar. Draco had the advantage of knowing that Granger reacted to his touch like the spark to a flame. She might hate it, but she was unable to conceal it. The only fault with this cunning plan was Draco's fear that he wouldn't be able to control his own jealousy whilst he watched Goldstein make his pathetic attempt. In fact, the more he thought about it the worse of an idea it seemed to be. Tony was not like the Weasel; a Quidditch obsessed red haired moron. The Ravenclaw prefect had been Draco's only serious challenger as Head Boy. Not only was he was tall and attractive in the way that girls seemed to like, but also pleasant, scholarly and intelligent. Should he decide to put a concentrated effort into winning Hermione, he might actually pose a serious threat. Certainly in Draco's opinion, Tony possessed more of the qualities which he imagined a girl like Granger would look for and actually need in a partner.

Draco was unable to cope with the torment of his own fertile imagination any longer; he looked at the clock and decided it was time to remove the Head Girl from the competition. No doubt the actual - as opposed to the potential - boyfriend would arrive shortly, and that could lead to even more unbearable displays of affection towards Granger, which he would be forced to witness. He had to get her away now.

He stood decisively and announced to Blaise, Vincent and Greg. 'Granger and I have to go into Hogsmeade this afternoon for a planning meeting at the hotel. I don't know when I'll be back.' He pulled his robes around himself and set off to collect the Head Girl.

For the second time that day he found himself standing behind Hermione at the Gryffindor table. A flustered giggle from Lavender Brown, who had made a concentrated effort to get him in bed last year, alerted Hermione to his presence, and he saw her back stiffen before she turned - more cautiously this time - to see him. Oddly enough, Tony Goldstein who had barely spared him two words strung together this term, also turned towards Draco and greeted him pleasantly, as he would have done last year.

'Granger,' he said trying to present a bland façade, 'I believe we should get moving if we are going to get the carriage in time.'

Hermione frowned at him and then looked at her own watch as if she was hoping to catch him out in some inaccuracy. However, since she could apparently find no fault with his attitude or his timekeeping, she conceded with a small nod. Standing up beside him, she was careful not to make the same mistake of the morning, and stepped gracefully out from the bench leaving as much distance between them as possible. She smiled brightly at her companions and told them much the same story Draco had just given his friends. Draco barely managed to suppress a growl when Goldstein gave her a definite sympathetic smile, as if he felt her pain for being forced to spend the afternoon in the company of a Malfoy. He was hard pressed not to grab Hermione by the wrist and drag her away without a chance to speak.

They walked out to the main doors quietly, just outside of each other's personal space. Hermione finally broke the awkward silence by saying, 'I probably should have brought a notebook, and some pens. I'm sure there will be a lot more to this than just chatting with a hotel employee. I -'

She didn't get the chance to say more, as Professor Dumbledore suddenly opened the doors and came in from the grounds. 'Ah! There you both are,' he said rubbing his hands together. 'Punctual as usual. It's getting quite chilly out, but it should be warm enough inside the carriage. I just wanted to meet you before you left and give you this list of everyone who will be attending on the 16th. I'm sure Mr Pringle will want to see it.' He held out a folded parchment and Draco reluctantly took it from the Headmaster. 'Aside from the 7th years, the four Heads of Houses and myself, there will be the six members of the Board of School Governors, four ministry officials and four Aurors attending. Do remember that we need everyone to be well mixed up and spread about!'

'Yes, sir,' mumbled Hermione and Draco, almost on the same breath.

'Good, good,' Dumbledore beamed. 'I will just walk with you to the carriage then and you can be on your way.'

Hermione winced as they walked down the sweeping stone steps and she saw the thestrals harnessed to the front of a coach. She still hadn't gotten over her first sight of them after Sirius' death, and even now two years later she still cringed - not so much from their appearance, for they truly weren't hideous - but from the knowledge of the loss which had made them visible to her. She wondered suddenly if Malfoy could see them yet. He had not been able to in their 5th year she recalled, but then neither had she at that time.

'Yes, I can,' he muttered quietly as they followed Dumbledore and it was almost as if he had read her mind. She gave him a startled look, she had been sure she had not spoken out loud, and he shrugged. 'You shuddered. It was obvious what you were thinking about from the look on your face, so I answered you.'

But Hermione found this almost more disturbing than the sight of the thestrals themselves. She didn't think Ron or Harry had ever read her mind as accurately as Draco Malfoy had just done, nor taken the time to acknowledge the fact. It was unsettling in the extreme to think that Malfoy was so attuned to her wavelength that he could answer her thoughts before they became speech.

Even more astonishing was the fact that he held open the carriage door for her to enter before him, and then politely settled on the seat opposite her as the Headmaster set the coach in motion.

Hermione's natural curiosity could only be suppressed as far as the gates to the Hogwarts grounds, 'Who -' she began but faltered as Malfoy's face broke out into a triumphant grin.

'Hah, Granger!' he crowed in delight. 'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist; but I'm amazed, you lasted a whole three minutes longer than I thought you would.'

'Sod off, Malfoy,' she muttered, glad the interior of the coach was dim enough that he couldn't see the bright flush which stained her cheeks. ' I was just making small talk - you know, like we have to at the party!' He didn't respond and she was left to stew about it again until the unbearable need to know got the better of her again. "Oh, alright you win, Malfoy!' she exclaimed snappily. 'Who did you see die? Was it someone close to you?'

Malfoy watched her with a calculating expression until she began squirming in her seat. 'No,' he muttered. The subject was actually quite delicate and personal and one he had never spoken to anyone about before. Now that he was done with teasing the Head Girl, he was forced to accept just how close he would be letting her get if he told her the truth about his ability to see the thestrals. Strangely though, his hesitation was not over whether to tell her but his realisation that he wanted to tell her, and what that meant.

'No, not family. No one I even knew, actually,' he said at last, 'It was at Christmas in 6th year. We had gone to see my father - Lucius -' Hermione couldn't prevent a gasp of embarrassment and he saw her clap a hand over her mouth as if she now regretted asking the question in the first place, so he pressed on. 'My mother wanted to spend some time alone with him, and I was waiting outside. Some of the inmates were exercising, if you could call it that - poor sods, and one of them just decided to make a run for it. Merlin only knows where he thought he could run to, but he just took off, and then there were dementors after him. It wasn't very pretty, and then I saw the thestrals when I got back here after Christmas break.'

Hermione remained silent for a long time after he had given his succinct tale, and then just when he thought he had opened up his secrets for nothing, she reached across and rested her hand - only for a second - on his knee and said, 'I'm sorry, Malfoy. That must have been horrible. I can't imagine what it must be like to visit a place like that, let alone know that someone you love is stuck there.'

'Well, it's certainly an efficient way of making you re-evaluate what you want out of life,' Draco muttered quietly, but he knew that she had heard him when she gave another small start. He wondered if he had said too much, too soon, or whether she would even pick up on the massive hint the was throwing out there in to the vast unknown. He wondered if he had completely lost his mind, implying to Hermione Granger of all people, that he was changing his beliefs and allegiances in these troubled times.

She was quiet, as he had expected her to be. He knew that she would want to analyse and dissect every word he had just said for hidden meanings and double crossing before she reacted in any way. He would have been disappointed if she had spoken on it immediately; she would not have been the person he was beginning to believe she was if she had.

Instead, she obliquely skirted the issue by asking to see the guest list Dumbledore had given him. As she examined the names on it, she said without ever looking up from the parchment, ' I appreciate that it must be quite difficult for you seeing all the Governors coming to this dinner, and knowing that your father can't. He used to sit on the Board, didn't he?'

' He did, Granger,' Malfoy confirmed. 'But he made his choices, and we all have to live with them now.'

Hermione nodded. 'I disagree with every single thing that your father stands for,' she said finally, 'And the same goes for you if you follow in his footsteps, but he is your father, and it wouldn't be natural if you didn't care for him and what's to become of him. I hope this won't be too painful for you.'

'Thanks, Hermione,' he said, for once exhibiting no sarcasm or contempt, and it didn't go unnoticed by either of them that he had used her first name.

They both were to admit later, that this was the exact moment at which they both realised that it might become possible to put the first five years of aggression and dislike behind them and move forwards with a new understanding.

For right now, they both lapsed into silence, suddenly embarrassed by their kindness to each other, and not a little disturbed by the forced proximity in the cozy darkened carriage.


	24. Chapter 24

The Felton Arms was a stately building; built of a warm yellow stone, it could well have passed in the Muggle world for a C17th manor house. It would probably be owned by the National Trust and open to the public Hermione thought, as the coach stopped outside. The illusion was shattered when the doorwizard rushed down to open the carriage for them. No where in historical Muggle Britain would you find a person dressed in the livery of the Felton Arms. His robes were purple adorned with stars, and bordered with gold piping. He wore a badge proclaiming his status- Concierge - which displayed continuously changing images of the duties he was responsible for. On his head he wore a golden pointed hat with purple trim.

Hermione couldn't resist a quick glance at Draco to see if he found the sight as amusing as she did, but his countenance remained unmoved as if he was quite accustomed to seeing little men in psychedelic robes rushing to do his bidding. She felt a moment's sadness for the areas of her life she had left behind for ever. Even Harry probably wouldn't appreciate this, for the Dursleys had certainly never taken him anywhere, or given him the opportunity to explore his country's history. She sighed as she shook off the strange melancholy and found that Malfoy was informing the attendant of their appointment with Mr Pringle.

The coach moved away, presumably round to the stables which apparently were located to the rear of the building, to await their return journey. Draco walked up the steps and held the doors open for Hermione to enter. Once inside they approached the reception desk and another wizard dressed in purple and gold; he directed them to seat themselves on some very plush sofas in the lobby whilst he summoned a clerk to take them to Mr Pringle's office.

The clerk who arrived to take them to their appointment was similarly attired in the Hotel's livery, and Hermione was just beginning to accustom herself to it when the office door opened and Mr Dilman Pringle stood there in all his glory. Hermione wished that someone had thought to prepare her beforehand for the sartorial splendour which was their host. Pringle had long dark hair which hung in a braid down his back and was tied at the end with a cluster daisies. He had three earrings in each ear, and a ring on every finger of each hand except the thumb. His nails were painted lavender to match his robes, and whilst he was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the staff, it somehow managed to look entirely different on him. The front of his robes were open and she could see that he was wearing extremely tight silver dragon hide trousers, and a blousy white shirt which was so transparent that she could see every shadow and curve of his chest, which was covered with dark hair. There was a large gold medallion hanging around his neck. Hermione had to bite her bottom lip very hard indeed to force her expression to remain neutral.

Even so, she knew she was staring but seemed totally unable to prevent herself; she could feel Draco stiffen up behind her and she took an imperceptible step backwards so that she was lightly resting against his length. She didn't want him to open his mouth and let a typically sarcastic Malfoy comment slip out. Despite his - different - appearance, they still had to work with this wizard, and it would do no good for them to antagonize him the moment they met.

At her action, Draco tensed even further and her heart leapt into her throat, fearing that she had made the wrong move and inadvertently inflamed the situation, but then he exhaled and allowed his hand to lift and rest gently on her hip. And then of course with the immediate disaster averted, a million other feelings rushed up on her, all of them focused on her dangerously close proximity to the Head Boy, and the small detail that he had not removed his hand, and in fact seemed to be stroking her side lightly.

Mr Pringle appeared luckily oblivious to the undercurrents running between his guests. He shook hands with each of them so very lightly that he barely seemed make contact at all, and turned away motioning them to follow him.

'Great,' Malfoy mumbled close to her ear as they did as they were bid, 'Wish Dumbledore had warned us we'd be liaising with a cream puff,' and Hermione had to gnaw again on her lip to stop herself giggling at his falsetto tone.

'First, I shall walk you around the hotel, you will see where we are going to have your soirée. Then we must look at the accommodations for the guests and then I shall show you the kitchens and we will talk about the menu and how to arrange seating. Do you have a guest list with you?' Pringle asked as he led the way out of a back door to his office. Hermione tried to concentrate on his words but hoped that Draco was doing a better job of it than she was, because all that she could think about was the fact that Draco had not yet removed his hand from the small of her back and didn't seem to have any plans to do so in the near future.

His touch was playing havoc with her heartbeat and her ability to form thoughts, but the simple solution of merely stepping away from his hand was not something which even occurred to her. However, the sight of the Ballroom was one which penetrated even Hermione's hormonal distraction. 'Oh, my!' she exclaimed as Pringle dramatically flung wide the doors with the air of a man who knew the reaction he would get.

'Yeah,' Draco agreed softly, moving in even closer beside her so that their sides were brushing against each other from shoulder to thigh. The room was beautiful, completely decorated in gold and white and seemed to have most recently been used for a wedding party, as there was a small alter adorned with flowers at the centre of the stage. Pringle was darting around waving his arms extravagantly as he pointed, maintaining a running commentary without seeming to stop for breath.

'And the tables will be circular, dressed in white linen of course with a Christmas motif in the centre, King Arthur - bless him - such a clever man, although it was probably Merlin's idea -'

'What?' Malfoy whispered behind her, to which she muttered 'I'll tell you later,' under her breath, as their host continued to indicate features of the facility.

'This is where the band will play, and the kitchens are though here. All of our wait-staff are humans; we only employ elves in housekeeping, the Felton Arms upholds the old fashioned values. Come, come...' he breezed into the kitchen area with Hermione and Draco trailing behind. As expected the cooking area was pristine; indeed if asked Hermione would have had to say that no morsel of food had ever touched any of its gleaming surfaces.

Pringle paused momentarily to tap his wand at a drawer - yes, he had a wand. It was mauve. The drawer opened and several sheets of parchment popped up into his hand. 'Sample menus, my dears,' he informed his bemused companions. 'We shall take a look when we return to my office. Let's view the accommodations now, shall we?'

With that their energetic host swept out of another door towards the rear of the kitchens and led them over to an antiquated lift. 'This is a service lift, but it will serve our purpose in getting to the third floor where your guest suites will be situated. Of course, on the day you will use the lifts in the main lobby.' Hermione was quite thankful for the opportunity to rest as the ancient metal contraption wheezed its way slowly upwards. So far, Dilman Pringle reminded her of nothing so much as a whirling dervish. The man just never slowed down.

Of course, the momentary immobility also gave her time to reflect on the unsettling proximity of the Head Boy. Due to the speed of their whirlwind tour, he had been forced to drop his hand from the small of her back as they raced through the kitchens, but now in this dimly lit confined space, her body was again signaling its heightened awareness of his own. She was just beginning to shift nervously from one foot to the other when the lift shuddered to a halt accompanied by much grinding and creaking. The ornate wrought iron gate squeaked open and Mr Pringle was on the move again, leaving Hermione no time to reflect on her irritating hormones.

They were conducted through three different bedrooms of varying sizes and amenities before Pringle darted back to the main staircase which they had glimpsed briefly whilst waiting in the lobby for their guide. He swept down the stairs keeping up a running monologue and gesturing to paintings and items along the way which he apparently deemed to be of interest to them, without ever breaking his step or pausing to breathe.

By the time they were finally seated in front of his large and totally empty desk, Hermione was breathing heavily and feeling as if she had just run a marathon. Even Draco, who was by no means sedentary, looked as if he had just undergone a major workout.

'Right then, shall we look at your guest list?' Mr Pringle asked as he took his seat opposite them and rested his chin on his steepled fingers, much in the way Dumbledore did. He had laid his purple uniform robes over a nearby stool, and Hermione was quite disconcerted by the sight of the twinkling gold medallion moving in and out of Mr Pringle's chest hair as he spoke.

Draco removed the list that Professor Dumbledore had given him and unfolded it, laying it down on the desk between Mr Pringle and themselves. Pringle hmmm'd to himself, and the lightly tapped the sheet with his mauve wand. Before their astonished eyes, the list of names on the parchment began to rise into the air and rearrange themselves into three columns of words floating disembodied in the space over Mr Pringle's desk. At the bottom of each column a number appeared showing how many names were in each list.

'So,' Pringle mumbled as he examined his creation. 'We have thirty four students, five teaching staff, six governors and eight guests from the ministry. That makes fifty three people in all, an odd number. Most unfortunate.' He flicked his wand again, and beside the charmed guest list a holographic model of the dining room appeared complete with circular tables occupied by tiny charmed figures who were chatting enthusiastically amongst themselves. Pringle tapped his wand again and the seating arrangements of the miniature guests changed quickly; this new distribution did not seem to please him any more than the first, so he rearranged them again, and then once more for luck. By this time his hapless diners were beginning to get annoyed with him; several were waving their fists threateningly - a couple had even drawn their miniscule wands and were pointing them at Pringle.

With a quick swish of his mauve wand, Pringle dissipated the model ballroom, and stared across his desk at Hermione and Draco, 'As you see, it's not as easy as just sitting down and expecting a meal to be placed in front of you. You could have six tables of eight, or eight tables of six, but you will still have five people left over, and someone without a partner. I wouldn't advise you to have seven tables as there will be an odd number at at least four of them, and that's not even taking into account the proportion of witches to wizards. I will expect you to have that information when you meet with me next time; along with a tentative seating plan for me to check over. Let's move on now to the menus available.' He floated the parchments across the desk which he had collected in the kitchen.

Draco looked quickly at Hermione; during Pringle's wand-waving dialogue he hadn't dared to take his eyes off the flamboyant little wizard in case he missed anything significant. He was relieved to see that in her usual efficient manner, Hermione was scribbling down lists of instructions on a napkin she must have liberated from the dining room as they passed through. He leant over to see what she had written, glad of the excuse to get nearer to her.

Considering that he had been given the gift of an afternoon exclusively in Granger's company, he had been able to take very little opportunity from it to advance his own case with the infuriatingly conscientious Head Girl. The brief touches at the base of her spine had been over far too quickly as their irritatingly perky host had rushed them around the building. He shuffled his chair closer to Hermione's and read her notes, managing to position himself so that their shoulders were touching lightly but in such a manner that she could mistake it for coincidence.

She turned towards him alarmed that he was suddenly closing in, and found him already so close to her that their noses bumped together as he leant over. For a brief moment Dilman Pringle, the Felton Arms and the rest of Hogsmeade fell away and all she could see was a pair of silvery grey eyes staring deep into her own, but then Malfoy looked downwards and broke the spell. 'What have you got there, Granger?' he asked hoping she did not pick up on the sudden huskiness of his voice.

She cleared her throat before answering but her voice still came out squeakier than she would have liked. 'Just - just writing down what we need to accomplish by next week, Malfoy,' she muttered. 'I don't expect you've taken any notes, have you?'

Dilman Pringle watched this exchange with irritation as his proffered menus hovered in mid-air unnoticed by the young couple sitting before him, who appeared unable to see anything but each other. He cleared his throat loudly before they did something inappropriate like jumping each other in his office. He was a professional, for Merlin's sake - why did he have to deal with these hormone driven teenagers? 'The menus, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy.' He announced loudly, and was gratified when they both jumped in their chairs as if they had been hexed. He just knew they had forgotten he was there, and that was totally unacceptable.

The rest of their meeting with the event coordinator proceeded much like the first hour. Mr Pringle gesticulated a lot and talked down to them some more, and eventually ejected them from his office with admonishments to be better prepared by next weekend or he would wash his hands of the whole event.

Finally standing outside in the weak November sunlight at a safe distance from the strange little man, Hermione and Draco could not help the laughter which caught up with them. 'Who did he remind you of?' Draco asked at last, grinning at her in a way which was guaranteed to drive all logical thought right out of her brain. She gazed at him blankly. 'Oh, come on, Granger,' he muttered. 'Don't disappoint me. I would have thought you would see it straight off.'

It was the emphasis on the you which did it for Hermione. She snapped out of her lust-induced daydream and glared at Malfoy trying to come up with an answer to his question; of course, now that she was giving it her full concentration it didn't take her long to find the answer. Gilderoy Lockhart, of course, and Malfoy had the nerve to refer back to her insane and pathetic crush on the teacher in their second year.

Oh, yes?

taunted the hateful little voice in the back of her head which had been silent recently, but seemed to choose the most inopportune moments - like right now - to pop up again with a pithy comment. Like the crush you have going on now is any less pathetic and insane!

'He is nothing like Professor Lockhart,' she informed Draco loftily, 'Although I could see why you might think so.' She turned her back on him and began walking away leaving Draco wondering what the hell had just happened. They had seemed to be getting along fairly well, and then she just froze up on him.

'Wait Granger,' he muttered and started after her as she marched up the road upon which the hotel was situated. He realised quickly that she was stomping off in totally the opposite direction to the stables and back towards the village itself. Taking a quick look at the time, he decided quickly that they still had a couple of hours before their absence would begin to look suspicious to anyone back at the school, and followed quickly after her. Maybe all was not irretrievably buggered up quite yet.

Hermione was cross at herself for letting him get to her again. Why did she keep thinking that they had gotten past the pettiness of their first five years, when he kept showing in so many little ways that he was still the stupid arrogant jerk he had always been? Her steps slowed as she reached the end of the road and her innate sense of fairness began to kick in. Damn him, but he was right of course, Pringle did very much put her in mind of Lockhart with his flamboyant overblown style and sweeping gestures, and when you considered it, the way in which her twelve year old self had hung on his every word- the charlatan - was quite amusing when considered from the distance of several years of maturity. Her annoyance with Malfoy, she admitted grudgingly, had come not from his teasing but her own lingering embarrassment over the memory of her infatuated behaviour. Damn it, she thought as her feet dragged to a halt, I'm going to have to apologize to him, aren't I?

She took a steadying breath and turned around to go back and abase herself, only to find him mere inches behind her again. 'Look, Malfoy -' she began, but he held his hands up and shook his head.

'No, wait,' he interrupted. 'I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to imply anything - I just thought he was a lot like that ponce, and I knew you'd remember him because all the girls were ga-ga over him when he was teaching here. I know the Slytherins thought he was the best thing since self-inking quills. I certainly had to listen to Pansy driveling on about him enough, not to mention the older girls swooning every time they came back from a DADA lesson. I just assumed it was the same in Gryffindor, after all girls are girls whatever their house.'

Hermione took a breath. This was surreal. How many times had Malfoy apologized to her this term? He must be going for some kind of a record. 'No, it's okay,' she confessed herself. 'I overreacted, because you're right, I was all ga-ga over him, and it's awfully embarrassing to think about it now. In fact I try very hard not to.'

'Are you going into the village?' Draco asked. 'Was there something you needed to get?'

Hermione looked confused by his question, and shook her head. 'No, I thought we were going back to the castle,' she replied.

'Well, it's just that you're going in the wrong direction for the stables,' Draco explained pointing back towards the hotel to emphasise his point.

'Oh!' she exclaimed in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing slightly. 'Do you want to go into the village?'

Draco's heart skipped a beat; she was giving him an opportunity to spend more time with her? 'Yes, yes, I'd really like that, if you don't mind,' he replied quickly trying not to seem too eager, and failing.

For a moment he thought Hermione looked pleasantly shocked, but then her smile froze over on her face, and she tensed up slightly. 'Okay, well it is quite chilly out now, so I might get a cup of hot chocolate in Madam Puddifoot's. I could meet you there in forty minutes or so?'

Draco couldn't help it; his heart sank and he knew a look of disappointment fell over his face. Hermione looked at him closely. 'All right, an hour then,' she muttered, 'But no longer. It will be dark by then and we will be expected back.' Draco was utterly confused by her behaviour, and it evidently showed on his face. She sighed. 'Look, I know we haven't been able to get into Hogsmeade very often this year, and I'm sure you must miss her, but I really don't think we can stay out any later, so you better get a move on and go see her -' her? - ' because you're wasting the time you do have. I'll be down at Madam Puddifoot's when you're ready, but if you're not there in an hour I'm going back to school alone, and I won't cover for you.'

With that she turned and walked away, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the road wondering what on earth she was talking about. Of course, it came to him momentarily in a blinding flash of revelation. Isabelle! He had told her he had a girlfriend in Hogsmeade last weekend when he was trying to worm his way into her good graces. What an idiot! And now she apparently expected him to nip off and spend an hour having a quick shag 'n snog session with aforementioned girlfriend. Had he mentioned what an absolute fucking idiot he was?

What to do? What to do? He sure as damn didn't intend to waste a chilly hour roaming around the stores of Hogsmeade having an imaginary date with an imaginary girl whilst the only one he really wanted was cozied up nicely by a warm fire alone drinking hot chocolate. Oh, no. He wanted to be there by the fire with her, showing her that he wasn't the stupid jerk he had been for five years. This was the perfect opportunity to get her alone away from the possibility of interruption by any of those hangers-on of hers, and he'd be buggered if he was going to let it pass him by because of a minor technical hitch. You could tell her the truth, he mused. But no, not yet, it was too soon, and it would just reinforce her poor opinion of him.

Best then, to do as she had told him. He would visit the Apothecary and discover that Isabelle was not there. It was probably a good idea anyway, to find out what Mr Fidenster had to say about the loss of his apprentice and if he knew what had really happened to cause it. A quick meeting and then off to the beckoning environs of Madam Puddifoot's and a date with the Head Girl.

In line with his intentions, it only took Draco five minutes to check up with Mr Fidentster and discover that considerable financial pressure had been brought to bear ensuring the transfer of Mlle. Giroud to their Diagon Alley store. The proprietor confessed that he had seen an unremarkable blonde teenaged girl involved in what had seemed to be a loud and angry discussion with Isabelle the week before Mr Parkinson had come to the shop and made it impossible for him to refuse to transfer her.

Although, Fidenster went on to add, it did seem to him that Isabelle was fairly happy in her new branch; it was after all just on the doorstep of both wizarding and Muggle London, and there was a lot more for a witch in her twenties to do there than in the sleepy northern backwater which was Hogsmeade. Isabelle was still getting a quality training as she was now apprenticing with Fidenster's brother-in-law, a highly qualified alchemist in his own right.

All in all, Draco left the apothecary in better spirits than he could have hoped, and his excitement mounted with each step that brought him closer to Hermione alone in the Tea Shop. So it was that he found himself outside of the small building barely ten minutes after he had said goodbye to her. Draco had never actually been into Madam Puddifoot's before, although he knew of the place. It was the destination of choice for bumbling teenagers feeling their way through a first romance and trying to impress their dates with their romantic side. Before Hermione, Draco had been neither bumbling, romantic or bothered about good impressions.

It was therefore somewhat of a culture shock for him as he pushed open the door and found himself confronted by chintz and flowers and a cloyingly sweet atmosphere he could only describe as twee. He scanned the room quickly looking for the only thing which would have compelled him to enter such a place. He found her sitting alone at a small round café table nursing a large green mug in her cupped hands. - Shit! I've got it so bad! - Immediately all his discomfort at being in such a place faded away, and he wondered vaguely if the proprietress, cunning witch, had charmed pheromones into the atmosphere so that those who entered her shop would be instantly enamored of their companions.

He couldn't even stop the stupid grin from breaking over his face as he made his way over to the table and sat down beside her, causing her to jump in surprise and slosh some of her hot chocolate out of her cup over her left hand.

'Isabelle wasn't there today. She's up in Diagon Alley,' he explained his speedy arrival, being economical with the truth. 'I'm sorry I startled you. Let me -' Hermione nodded in response to his explanation and his offer to mop up. He lifted her hand from the table and brought it to his mouth where he proceeded to render her speechless and immobile by slowly licking the sticky spilt drink from her fingers.

Hermione felt the rough texture of his tongue as it lapped across the sensitive pads of her finger tips like an electric shock which ran all the way to the ends of her hair and the very tips of her toes. She heard a gargled noise and realised momentarily that she herself had made it. Draco looked up through the fan of his eyelashes at her face; he was barely in any better condition himself. His penis which had been threatening him off and on all afternoon, sprang to attention the moment he picked her hand up, and there is no telling what might have happened next, had Madam Puddifoot herself not appeared at Draco's elbow asking for his order.

He reluctantly let Hermione's hand loose and she immediately clutched both arms around her body defensively; Draco turned to face the intruder casually flicking his robes over his lap to avoid any inspection of his trousers. 'I'll have a hot chocolate also,' he requested, aware of the hoarse quality of his voice but unable to control it, 'And another for my friend, please. She seems to have spilt hers. Thank you.'

Madam Puddifoot made a note, and quickly produced a damp cloth from somewhere in her apron to clean the spill from the table. An awkward silence fell as she left them alone at the table. Hermione tried to fill it with small talk; Professor Dumbledore and his panel of judges would have been proud of her, she thought, had they heard her magnificent attempt to talk about trivia with the Head Boy. They would have probably exempted her from the 7th year party social on the spot.

Draco was just happy to be sitting here with her wallowing in the haze of arousal the taste of her fingers had given him. He let her determined efforts at conversation flow over his head; the annoyingly frilly interior of the tea shop was even beginning to feel like the perfect setting for this occasion. He actually had Hermione alone, and there were none of her annoying friends around to interrupt.

Madam Puddifoot returned far too quickly for his liking, and placed new cups of the hot beverage in front of them both. The business of paying for the drinks and exchanging the obligatory pleasantries with the owner, sufficiently brought Draco back to earth for him to realise that he needed to start contributing to the one-sided conversation, and stop daydreaming about his companion.

Whilst he wanted to talk to her about a myriad of different subjects, he deemed it most wise to start with the events of the afternoon, and therefore asked for her suggestions about how to arrange the seating at the dinner to create the minimum possibility of dissention.

They managed to have a lively discussion about how best to mix the four houses up in a manner which would please Professor Dumbledore, and yet still please the victims of his plotting, although by the time Hermione looked at her watch and realised that it was nearly supper time, they had not reached an actual agreement. This made Draco extremely happy; he was prepared to play devil's advocate for days if he could maneuver Hermione into more meetings and time spent alone with him.

Finally though, she looked out of the window and gasped when she saw how dark it had become. 'We'd better get back to school,' she said quickly. 'We still have to walk all the way back up to the hotel for the carriage, and it's hardly light out any more.'

Draco frowned as he too stared out of the window. They both stood and thanked Madam Puddifoot, wrapping their winter robes closely around their shoulders before they set out into the dusk. They had only walked a short way up the road when the sound of hoof beats alerted them to the fact that their coach was approaching them from the direction of the hotel.

'That's very clever,' Hermione commented. 'Professor Dumbledore must have charmed it to come when we needed it.'

Draco grunted; he had been hoping for an opportunity to offer her the added protection of snuggling under his cloak with him as shelter from the cold wind during their walk back to the hotel.

Hermione quickly passed by the thestrals and hopped inside the carriage without giving him a chance to open the door for her. Draco thought quickly and hissed to the creature as he passed it by, 'Could you take the long way back around the edge of the lake, please?' He had no idea if the animal had any understanding of his words, but he figured it was worth a try to extend his time alone with his girl.

The carriage had been dim on the way to Hogsmeade in the middle of the day. It was positively black inside now, and as Draco entered Hermione was trying to cast a lighting spell without any success for there did not seem to be any candles or lamps within the interior of the coach. She gave up and cast a lumos spell on the end of her wand as Draco pulled the door shut behind him. She wedged her wand into the seam between her seat and the one next to it to keep it upright, and Draco saw his opportunity.

'Here,' he said helpfully, picking her wand up and replacing it in the corresponding join on the seats opposite. 'If you put it over there, it will stop you knocking into it all the time.'

'I suppose so,' Hermione frowned, 'But where are you going to sit?'

'I can sit next to you, can't I?' Draco asked casually. 'You don't have any nasty disfiguring diseases I might catch, do you?'

She just sighed and rolled her eyes at him, and he could have kicked himself for the stupid answer which no doubt reminded her forcefully of all his past comments about the purity or not of her blood. She turned her head away from him and leant against the side of the carriage, staring out of the small window into the darkness, whilst Draco desperately cast around for something innocuous to talk about.

However, after considering and rejecting a host of different subjects, he finally realised that the thestrals seemed to have taken him at his word and were traveling the long way back. He wondered why Hermione had not yet asked why it was taking so long to reach the school, and leant over to see what she was looking at outside in the dark.

It seemed that the combination of little or no sleep the night before whilst she fretted about her breakup with Ron, combined with the warmth inside the swaying carriage and the two cups of hot chocolate - a traditional bedtime drink - had led to Hermione nodding off as she leant against the cushions.

Draco caught his breath and lifted her wand from its position wedged between the seats opposite so that he could study her face in repose. Her lashes lay in dark crescents against her cheeks, and her bottom lip pouted out as she slept. Draco wanted to suck it into his mouth and run his tongue over it.

He would have been happy just watching her all the way back to the castle, but the coach suddenly bumped through a deep rut in the road, making him drop the wand and bouncing Hermione away from the window. He reacted quickly reaching over and catching her against himself so that she did not hit her head against the wall and disturb her rest. Of course, once he had her in his arms he found himself unable to return her gently to her previous position; instead he shifted on the seat so that he was resting his own head back on the opposite side of the carriage with Granger curled against his chest.

Since she had shown no signs of waking up despite the vigorous jolting, he took the chance to indulge his need to touch her; holding her to him with one arm around her body, his fingers resting mere inches from the underside of her breasts, whilst his other hand played with a strand of her hair, curling it around his fingers and bringing it up to press against his lips.

Another bump as the coach hit a pothole on the other side, and Draco braced himself so as not to jolt Hermione again; he did not want her to wake up and put a stop to this. The motion did disturb her however, and she rolled slightly away from him in an action which totally uncontrived by himself, caused her breast to slide into the cup of his palm.

Draco was practically shaking with the indecision of what to do; he was quite well aware that it was not the action of a gentleman to take advantage of Hermione whilst she was sleeping. He had already probably crossed quite a few lines just by taking her into his arms before. To take the opportunity to feel her up whilst she was oblivious almost smacked of a Death Eater mentality; something he tried to avoid at all costs. But he was weak and he wanted her so much it was driving him to ever stupider and riskier behaviour. His hand ached with the effort not to play with her little pebbled nipples which he could feel pressing right into the centre of his palm. He groaned and hit his head backwards against the cushion a couple of times to knock some sense into himself. If she was to wake up now and catch him groping her, she would no doubt hex his balls into the middle of next year.

As if in response to his own moans, he heard Hermione mumble something into his chest and he regained enough control to bend closer and try work out if she was waking up and getting ready to defend her honour. However, he was dumbfounded to hear as she continued her mutterings, 'Don't stop...feels so good,' and he froze in utter disbelief as her own hand suddenly clamped tightly over his and pressed it harder against her breast even as her body instinctively pushed upwards into the caress.

There was no chance of his resisting now; the effect of her erotic whispers was instant and uncontrollable. The erection he had been fighting ever since he licked the chocolate off her fingers sprang up hot and hard in his trousers, and he could feel the swaying motion of the coach causing it to rub against her hip bone with the angle at which she lay alongside him. Her hand was still on his guiding it against her nipple until he gave up all common sense and began rolling the hardened point between his thumb and forefinger. She mumbled again and he strained his ears to hear, 'Mmm, please - touch me...' she was squirming herself now causing even more friction against his arousal. He wanted to obey her; his willing fingers moved briefly downwards to slip beneath the hem of her jumper - it was Saturday and she wore weekend clothes - to slide back up the silky bare skin of her middle until there was nothing separating him from his goal but a scrap of satin underwear.

He was shaking all over by now. Oh, Merlin, I'm going to come in my pants, he thought suddenly, as her restless movements caused more friction against his already bursting penis, thrusting hard against it and pushing him rapidly to the edge of his control. He could feel his testicles tightening up and swelling with the immense quantity of his cum which needed release, and seconds later he was ejaculating helplessly into the confines of his trousers.

He trembled with the effort of holding still and keeping quiet though his massive climax, but he must have failed for suddenly Hermione gasped out quite clearly, 'No, Draco -' and her eyes flew open to stare owlishly right into his own dilated pupils. There was no disguising the fact that he still had a hand up her jumper, and as the realisation hit her she gasped and stumbled inelegantly away from him until she was huddled on the seat opposite, staring at him in shock.

Draco was still unable to move for his cock continued to empty violently into his pants. Hermione's fallen wand was casting out light, but from where it now lay on the floor of the coach halfway under the seat the light was more diffused, overlaying the interior with shadows and he thanked Merlin for small mercies because it might just save him from her realisation of what his body was currently doing.


	25. Chapter 25

Hermione was having the most amazing dream.

In the past month she'd experienced plenty of dreams featuring Draco Malfoy in the starring role, but this one was really The Dream to end all dreams. It was strange also that the Hermione in the dream knew she was dreaming; she was fully conscious that she was doing so even in the midst of her erotic slumber, and since it wasn't real she knew she was quite safe in allowing it to continue. It was as if she had stepped outside of her own body and was watching from the sidelines, approving of the images she had conjured in her sleep.

In this particular fantasy, she had led Malfoy's hand under her jumper so that he was separated from her skin by nothing more than a skimpy satin bra. She was overcome by the need to tell him how good it felt, and so she did, pressing his hand harder against her to emphasize the fact. She could feel something hot and hard against her hip bone and wriggled closer ; she knew it was not in the right place to fill the empty ache between her legs and her frustration grew exponentially with her inability to get in the correct position to solve that problem.

Please, touch me....

spectator Hermione allowed herself a cringe at the desperate neediness in her dream-self's hoarse voice, but then she began to wonder why Malfoy was not obeying her and assuming the position. This was her dream, her fantasy - shouldn't he be doing exactly what she wanted him to do - not becoming as stiff as a board and resisting her attempts at seducing him?She tried harder to squirm into his lap but her efforts seemed to be in vain and she began to get annoyed with him. He had no right to deny her the release she was so desperately in need of; she was in charge of this dream - not him. No, Draco..... she hissed as he tried to pull away from her a second time, and the words were forceful enough to push her through the last veils of slumber and into wakefulness.

And to a horrifying awareness that although she might have actually been sleeping, certain parts of her erotic fantasies had simultaneously been playing out in real time whilst she was in her dream-world. She was currently sprawled in Draco Malfoy's lap, head burrowed against his chest and holding one of his hands over her right breast; he could be in absolutely no doubt that she had been enjoying this for his thumb was currently resting right against a pebbled nipple which felt so swollen and sensitive that Hermione could feel the touch along every nerve which ran from the point of contact to the aching void between her legs.

He was staring straight into her eyes as she woke up but she couldn't read the expression in his for the carriage was too dark. For an insane minute she actually considered letting her dream play out in reality, before her sense of self preservation kicked in.

She scrambled away from him awkwardly until she was huddled on the opposite seat, staring at him with wide shocked eyes like a rabbit at a fox. Malfoy looked similarly unnerved by the experience. His hands were curled so tightly around the edge of the seat that his knuckles glowed white in the poor lighting from her wand which had rolled onto the floor. His face as much as she could see of it, wore an expression of agonized concentration, as if he was trying not to react to what had just happened. He looked as if he might be going to throw up.

They just stared, neither seeming able to find words to express themselves, until Draco let out a loud puff of breath through his teeth and slumped forwards on the seat to rest his elbows on his knees and stare at the floor between his feet. They held this new pose for another eternity, until Draco set his shoulders and mumbled something which sounded like a spell beneath his breath, before straightening up and shaking his head as if to clear it.

'Isabelle has been transferred to the store in Diagon Alley,' he said randomly. 'She won't be coming back to Hogsmeade again.' He looked vaguely startled as he spoke the words, as though he had no idea he was going to say this.

Isabelle? Hermione wondered, still not fully in command of her thought processes, but slowly her brain cells began repairing themselves, and proceeded to quickly race off into new and even more dangerous territory. Oh, God - his girlfriend. Oh Merlin. What does that mean? Is he telling me he's broken up with her? What does that mean?

'Nothing. I just - I wanted to let you know,' he replied and she realised that she had spoken her last thoughts out loud. Should I tell him about Ron? The thought was sly and insidious, and having been given a voice, kept niggling at the back of her mind. Manfully she resisted the desire to yell at the top of her voice, Me too. I just dumped Ron. Let's go to bed and stay there for a week! For one thing, she had absolutely no idea of Malfoy's motivations in telling her about Isabelle's moving away. He could be just making polite conversation really; trying to pretend that she had never practically forced his hands inside her clothes. Maybe he was so disgusted with her behaviour that he wanted to forget it had ever happened. But there had been those kisses the other week..... He had not seemed averse to touching her then. She wanted to scream; she was driving herself crazy with all these half-formulated questions that had no answers.

Better to just ask outright and know the worst. Then maybe her imagination could stop creating new and more extravagant ways of torturing her insecurities. 'What just happened here, Malfoy?' She asked bluntly.

He looked startled by her question, and she was utterly convinced for a moment that he was going to make something up, until he took a breathy sigh and told her, 'You fell asleep leaning against the window and when the coach hit a hole in the road, you bounced off the wall and I just caught you so that you didn't knock yourself unconscious, then you woke up and here we are.' He made it sound very simple when she was sure it wasn't.

'And what about the - um - hand. Yours, I mean - and mine - you know, where they were?' she persisted, glad that the darkness of the coach hid her cheeks which she knew were flaming scarlet.

'Oh, that,' Malfoy said and she could positively hear the smirk in his voice, even if she couldn't actually see it. 'Seems like you were having a very nice dream, Granger. Was I in it?' He knew he was taking a chance on being hexed for that last remark, but something stronger than his own common sense was driving him on. He really didn't expect an answer to that, let alone a positive one, but he hadn't been able to resist asking. She had said his name after all, even if it was in the negative.

He was deliciously surprised therefore, when instead of snapping his head off and grabbing for her wand, Hermione stuttered and mumbled in response to his question, obviously deeply embarrassed by it, or perhaps - by it's accuracy? What a tantalizing possibility - that the Head Girl might actually be sharing his own fevered fantasies! Without his conscious direction, he found himself leaning towards her across the space which separated the two seats. 'Was I, Granger?' he practically purred as he closed in on her.

'Malfoy!' she squeaked hysterically, 'Why on earth would I - what makes you think - I - you -' she seemed unable to find words. He was almost on top of her now, so close she could feel his breath on her face.

'Yes, me, Granger,' he whispered. 'Did you dream about me? You said my name. My name, you know. Not Malfoy, or any of those other endearing little nicknames you have for me, but my name. You said Draco.....'

'I - I didn't,' she protested weakly, somehow unable to turn away from him. 'I didn't - did I?'

'Yes,'

the word was little more than a whisper of breath across her lips and then he was upon her, his mouth covering hers again, and the earth spun wildly on its axis. Oh God, she had missed this; his mouth, his hands. The taste of him. How could she have become so addicted to his touch in so short a time? Ron was only gone a day and she was already sinking into Malfoy as if she wanted to drown in him. She was hardly aware of him maneuvering her onto his lap so that she straddled his thighs as he laid back against the upholstery, arranging them so that she was riding his newly burgeoning erection. This felt so good, so right; she rubbed herself against his hardness. He had positioned her absolutely perfectly to achieve the optimum friction where she needed it most. His hand had returned to the scene of the crime, but this time had no hesitation in slipping the cups of her bra aside so that it could play with the aching tips skin to skin.

She made a choking protest as he released her mouth, her hands in his hair trying to tug him back upwards, but he was fixed on his destination and wouldn't be swayed, bunching her jumper up in his hands and following its upwards progress with kisses to her tummy and ribs. Hermione totally forgot that she had been trying to stop him when she felt the first flick of his tongue over the swollen pink tips of her breast. She had never imagined that any part of her body could be as sensitive as her nipple felt when Draco's hot mouth closed around it. All she was capable of was a strangled gurgle, but she arched her back curving herself up to help him, whilst pushing her throbbing pussy harder against his rigid cock in an attempt to relieve some of the terrible pressure there.

Draco was vaguely aware that he was going too far too fast; he had not intended this when he leant over to kiss her. He had just wanted to make sure she knew that he would accept anything she offered. That he was pleased she had been dreaming about him; to confess that he had been thinking about her, too. It was just that when they touched each other it was like a forest fire, raging out of control. He had never known that he could need someone the way he needed Hermione Granger; he felt as if he was only half alive when she was away from him, and when he was touching her the whole world seemed clearer, brighter, and a better place to be. It was just inconceivable that he could be the only one who felt this way; she had to feel it too - she could not respond to him the way she did otherwise, could she?

He released her nipple with a lingering kiss and looked down between them to try and admire her in the dim light; she let out a little moan of protest, but when he tugged her hand out from where it was curled into his hair and directed it down between them and over the straining zipper of his trousers, it turned into a gasp of shock. She was hesitant and unsure as she touched the thick swelling through the fabric, but even that light touch sent his head spinning and brought moans bubbling up into this throat, despite the magnitude of the orgasm he had experienced just recently.

He held her head gently between his hands and brought her mouth back to his, allowing himself the luxury of kissing her slowly, his tongue running along her teeth, playing advance and retreat with her own, whilst all the time feeling her fingers feathering lightly over the ridge of his erection. Her movements slowly gained in confidence as her hand curled over the waistband of his trousers and sought out the leaking head of his cock with the very tip of her index finger. In much the same manner she had done earlier whilst in the grips of her dream, his hand flew back down to hold hers against him, his soft moans silent encouragement of her explorations.

Therefore it was an unpleasant shock for both of them when the carriage ground to a sudden and lurching halt, tipping Hermione off his lap and into a heap on the floor. They both moaned at the loss of contact, and Hermione was just starting to scramble frantically back up towards him when the sound of the Headmaster's voice speaking courteously to the thestrals brought them back to a sense of their surroundings.

Hermione changed direction in mid-movement, sweeping up her wand from the floor, and trying to set her clothing to rights before giving up and clasping her robe tightly around her body. Draco grimaced and slipped a hand in his pants to rearrange his penis so that it was under slightly less pressure, grinning as Hermione gasped and looked down at the floor, unable to deal with the ramifications of that casual act.

She scrambled over to the door, and muttered, 'We shouldn't have done that,' as she pushed it open and climbed back out onto Hogwarts ground and sanity.

She had gone from We can't to We shouldn't. Draco wondered if he was insane in that he regarded this as progress.

****************

By seeming mutual agreement, the incident in the carriage was not mentioned again by either of them, although Hermione nursed it to herself like a miser with his gold. For the first time in the skewed and incomprehensible relationship or whatever-it-was which had developed between herself and Malfoy, she felt that she was allowed to think about what had happened, to reconstruct and relive it again and again.

She was free, and so it seemed was he. And if these uncontrollable episodes kept occurring between the two of them, then the end was inevitable. She had accepted it now; she was going to give herself to Draco Malfoy. She might have lingering doubts in her logical brain that this was the right thing to do, and that he was the right person to do it with, but she was practical enough to realise that she couldn't fight against her own body for ever. That had already surrendered to him, and the actual physical act would just be her acknowledgement to him of the fact.

She sat in the study on Sunday evening to do her Arithmancy homework, and gave him a shy smile as he entered and faltered in shock the sight of her. After she had fled the carriage on Saturday she had rushed to catch the end of dinner in the Great Hall. Some of the awkwardness between herself and Ron had lessened with his sympathy for her perceived ordeal of spending the whole afternoon stuck with Malfoy. Although she had pulled faces and grunted at the appropriate junctures, she had been secretly amazed at how good it felt not to have any guilt gnawing down on her. She was embarrassed to remember how freely she had responded to Draco, but the newness of knowing she was only answerable to herself for any indiscretions was euphoric.

Of course, the lively discussion around the table about their research topics for the Social Evening drew attention away from Ron and Hermione's stiffness with each other, although she knew that most of the 6th and 7th year Gryffindors at least must now know they had separated.

Due to her late arrival from Hogsmeade, Hermione had been able to sit with Parvati and Lavender without drawing undue notice that she was away from her usual set; indeed the other girls had virtually dragged her down to sit with them, demanding to know all about the hotel and it facilities. Ironically, for the first time in what seemed to be forever, Malfoy's name didn't come up in the conversation, despite the fact the this time it would have been quite legitimate had it done so.

Sunday had been more of the same; at Parvati and Lavender's behest Hermione had approached Professor McGonagall to enquire if a special trip for the 7th years only might be arranged in to Hogsmeade to shop for the event. This had been approved, along with permission for the 7th years from the other three houses. The library had never been so busy as it was that Sunday; certainly the Muggle published section had never seen as much activity as it did today.

By the evening Hermione had been quite glad to escape Social-Fever which was taking over her peers, and had settled down to do her homework in the Head student study with her heart fluttering in her chest. She wasn't sure if she wanted Draco to be there or not; she wasn't sure her being here was an admission of something or just foolishness. When it turned out that the study was empty, she had sighed and decided to stay anyway. Malfoy was probably as tied up with helping his Slytherins with their research as she had been; more so, really, if many of them had received Muggle topics like Crabbe and Goyle had done.

She had been working for maybe an hour when the door opened and he came in, looking momentarily stunned to see her there, but he recovered quickly and sauntered over to the desk with that irritating smirk pinned to his face. Actually, it wasn't anywhere near as annoying now as she had once thought it was; in fact it was really rather sexy and suggestive. She felt her face heat up and looked down at her work.

'Hello, Malfoy,' she muttered into her book, deciding that attack was the best form of defense, especially in game she had no idea how to play. 'Have you been plagued all day with questions about the Social Evening, too?' She thought for a second that he wasn't going to let her get away with this diversion, but after a brief silence during which he seemed to come to a decision, he replied thoughtfully,

'Yes, everyone in my year has a subject now except for me. And every one is a Muggle theme. The old coot isn't exactly subtle is he?' he gazed at Hermione as she fiddled with her quill, seemingly wanting to defend the Headmaster but unwilling or unable to start another fight.

Draco had decided over the span of the day that he should not rush anything after last night. He was really beginning to hope that he could make her want him almost as much as he wanted her, but he needed for her mind to be in agreement with her body. He was now fully aware that a quick shag out behind the Quidditch stands would never be enough for him with this girl. He wanted all the parts of Hermione Granger, and he wanted them to belong to him for a very long time, and so he was prepared to wait until he could have all of that. Rushing her now was the last thing on his mind, when the rewards would be so great if he could just display a little patience

'Dumbledore is very keen on unity,' Hermione managed at last in response to his sarcasm. 'Maybe he isn't very diplomatic about it, but he has tried other things for a long time without success. Maybe he's decided a bludger to the brain is the final resort.'

Draco snorted. 'It'll take more than that with some of them,' he muttered darkly, and Hermione was surprised. It was the second time in as many days that he had let drop veiled hints that he was not as enamored of his father's ideals as he had always portrayed. 'You got a subject on your invitation yet, Granger?' he asked pulling her out of her reflections, and she shook her head. 'That's odd,' he mused in response. 'You realise that makes you and I the only two students in the whole school with nothing to research?'

'Our subject is probably How to arrange a successful social gathering without offending anyone or destroying a posh hotel,' she snorted in response. 'This whole seating plan thing is going to be an absolute nightmare. I was seeing Pringle's little floating tables last night in my sleep, only all my guests were in a custard pie fight, and Dumbledore was blaming us because the hotel banned any one from Hogwarts from ever setting foot inside the doors again.'

Draco grinned at her image although he wasn't quite sure what a custard pie fight was. Still, it left him a massive opening. 'Okay, Granger. Put your books away and we better start having a serious look at how to distribute everyone with the minimum likelihood of offending the Felton Arms.'

Hermione watched him thoughtfully for a couple of moments before deciding to agree with his request. She closed her books up and put them into her bag, then opened the list of guests which Dumbledore had given them and spread it over the table in place. Ignoring for the moment the names of the whole 7th year class, she asked Draco, 'What do you know about the school governors. I'm afraid I don't personally know any of them, but I suppose you have met them through your family - connections - it might help us place them better if we consider their ages and -um - political leanings.'

Draco grimaced at her attempt to be tactful. 'They aren't all from Slytherin, you know,' he said defensively. He pointed at the list. 'There's an old Hufflepuff there, two Ravenclaws and one Gryff, it's an even mix. Perhaps you should read some old year books as well as Hogwarts; A History.'

Hermione gave him a confused look. 'You mean you read old year books?' she asked and the astonished tone in her voice was positively unflattering. Draco had to concentrate very hard not to lapse back into the familiar old comfort of sarcastic retaliation.

When he had command of his tongue, he replied calmly, 'I read a lot of things, Granger. But I like to read by myself, not in public. Anyway, we should start with the adults and sprinkle the students amongst them. Professor Snape should be next to Tonks, and I think a Ravenclaw on his other side...'

'Wait a minute,' Hermione interrupted. 'Shouldn't the adults be in between two students. That would at least distance everyone a bit further in case things get heated?'

'Well, maybe the others, but who do you hate enough to condemn to sitting next to Snape?' Draco replied practically. 'Has to be girls, or the whole system doesn't work. Most of the 7th year girls are petrified of him. I was going to suggest Brocklehurst on the other side; she's the only girl in 7th year he's never given a detention to - '

Hermio0ne pulled a face. 'Malfoy, do you mean to tell me you keep track of who Professor Snape gives detentions to?'

'Of course I do, Granger,' Draco replied as if he were talking to a three year old. 'These things are useful to know....Point in fact, right now! Can we move on?'

'No! No, we can't!' Hermione said irritably. 'I need to process this. Why do you think Tonks would be a good partner for Professor Snape? She's one of the Aurors coming, you know.'

'Well, obviously,' Draco replied. 'She's also my cousin. She can cope with dear old Severus.' Hermione gaped a moment. She had examined the Black family tapestry enough times at Grimmauld Place to know that Malfoy was on there right along with many other less savory characters, but maybe because of Tonks' mother's removal from said tapestry, it had never truly struck her until this moment that their mothers were sisters and that made Tonks about as close a relative to Draco as you could get.

'Do you see Tonks?' Hermione asked, barely above a whisper. If Malfoy and Tonks were in communication, it opened up a whole new avenue of questions for her to ponder over in the privacy of her room. Was he dangerous - to Tonks, to the Order, or was Malfoy changing his loyalties? Hermione could feel panic swirling inside her at the horrible scenarios she was conjuring up.

'We've met a few times ....since Lucius - since the end of 5th year,' Draco compromised. 'She came and told me what had happened; the Ministry thought it might come better from family,' he added stiffly. 'Didn't occur to them that I'd never spoken a word to her before then. Parents wouldn't allow it; I'd only caught sight of her at school a few times before she left; she was in 7th year when we came here.' He looked at her with narrowed eyes, seeming to decide he'd said more than he intended. 'More interesting to wonder how you come to know an Auror?'

'Well, um - Harry knows a lot of people,' Hermione squeaked out quickly, and Draco's face closed off immediately as though a switch had been flipped.

'Potter, of course. I should have known.' He said coldly. 'That's probably enough for tonight. We should try and look at this every evening for about thirty minutes or so, though. Pringle does want us back with some kind of plan by next weekend. Maybe we should just pull names out of a hat.'

'Perhaps we could ask the Headmaster to lend us the Sorting Hat?' Hermione joked feebly, wondering desperately where the relaxed atmosphere had vanished off to and trying to lighten the situation. She didn't know what she had said to upset Draco, only that it hurt her to see that he had lost all the warmth of earlier in the evening.

'Actually, Granger, that might be just the thing to make sure this isn't a complete disaster. Why don't you see if it's possible? Goodnight.'

And with that he was gone, into his room, leaving Hermione wondering how she had been coerced into asking Professor Dumbledore if they could use the Sorting Hat to arrange the seating plans.


	26. Chapter 26

The Headmaster seemed very interested in the quest which had led Hermione to his office this afternoon after Charms, to make such a strange request of him. She had tried her best to justify the odd idea, but since Malfoy had been conspicuous by his absence all day, she had no back-up to give her request authority. Eventually, after listening to her babble on for ten minutes, Professor Dumbledore suggested they ask the Hat it's opinion, assuring her that if it was in agreement, then they could consult with it, but only here in his office.

Hermione had been unaware that the Hat could communicate unless it was upon someone's head, but Dumbledore lifted it down from the self on which it rested and touched the tip of his wand to it's point and it began to unfurl itself until the semblance of a face formed upon its worn side. 'Professor,' it mumbled in the same speculative tones Hermione remembered from her very first day here. 'It is most unlike you to waken me in the middle of the day.'

'Indeed, but our Head Girl here, Miss Granger, came to me with a request for your help and I thought you might enjoy the challenge of something different from your regular Sorting decisions.'

'Hmm, Miss Granger - Gryffindor, but I remember I did consider Ravenclaw. I am not at all surprised she has made Head Girl. Miss Granger, lift me to your head and let me see inside.'

Hermione swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, and wondered exactly how much the Hat would be able to see of what was currently inside her head. Everything, it appeared; as soon as she placed the Hat on her curls it began to laugh in as much as hats can. 'My, my, Miss Granger,' she heard its sibilant tones directly into her ears. 'What a whirlpool of confusion going on in here. I am so glad that eleven year olds minds are relatively uncomplicated. Mr Malfoy indeed - I never would have predicated that match, but it could be a very good one - ' Hermione shot an appalled glance at Professor Dumbledore, horrified in case he could also hear the Hat's speculations through his wand link which had awoken it, but the Headmaster was studying the floor plan that Hermione had brought with her and seemed to be giving them their privacy. The Hat continued, 'Try not to think so hard, Miss Granger, and let me sort out what you do want of me.' It spent some more minutes probing in silence, until Hermione's nerves were totally frayed, before sighing and continuing in a voice which became it apparent that Professor Dumbledore now could hear. 'Ah, Albus, it would seem then that all yours, and indeed my own calls for unity between the Houses have done little to sway people's minds against the tide of tradition. This saddens me greatly, but I see that your own foresight continues to outstrip the narrow vision of those around you. You have chose this year's Head Students wisely. I would like to speak with Mr Malfoy again also if that could be arranged. I remember him as a frightened little boy, who was desperate to please his father and avoid any further painful punishments; otherwise I might have been tempted to put him in Ravenclaw also...'

This was too much for Hermione; she grasped the Hat and pulled it off her head. 'Honestly, if you know all that you must know Malfoy would kill me if he knew you had shared something like that about him!' She scolded it as she placed it back on Dumbledore's desk.

The Hat seemed to smirk slyly, despite it's actual lack of a mouth, and it's voice still reached her although it was no longer in contact with her. 'Maybe, or maybe not - but I think the knowledge will not be ill-used by you Miss Granger, will it?' and Hermione was forced to shake her head. She knew she would never tell anyone what the Hat had just revealed to her, and she was hardly able to appreciate the enormity of the meaning behind it's casual revelation, although she knew that later she would spend hours pondering over the implications of that tiny snippet of information. 'I will consult with you on this matter,' the Hat said suddenly becoming all business. 'Come to see me after classes this week, and bring Mr Malfoy with you,' after which it fell silent.

'Well, my dear,' the Headmaster said as he replaced the Sorting Hat on its shelf. 'That is a rare honour. The Hat does not agree to reveal itself to many people. It must have seen some very good things in your heart to decide to help you. Now, tell me about your visit with Mr Pringle. Is he not an exceptionally interesting person-?'

Hermione entered the Great Hall for dinner that evening and was not surprised when Lavender and Parvati claimed her again demanding updates on the Hogsmeade date which had been set for the Saturday after next. Hermione knew they had no idea how grateful she was for their continued intervention which was giving her plausible reasons for avoiding sitting with Harry, Ron and Ginny. The girls knew she and Ron had split up; they had both expressed sorrow that things hadn't worked out - and maybe there was some solidarity with their former dorm- mate, but most of their excitement genuinely stemmed from the thought of Formal Robes and dinner in a 5 golden broomstick hotel. After they had finished eating, Padma and Mandy Brocklehurst came over to join them and the whole subject had to be covered again.

Hermione sat watching Mandy with fascination, unable to forget Draco's contention that she was the only 7th year who had never been given a detention with Snape. She wondered how the girl would react if she baldly sat here and told Mandy that she would have to sit next to Professor Snape for the duration of the dinner which she was currently so excited about. Would that dampen her enthusiasm any? 'What do you think of Professor Snape?' she asked Mandy suddenly before she could over-think the idea.

Mandy looked at her in surprise. 'Well,' she said slowly, and Hermione was impressed to see that the other girl was giving the question serious thought and not just falling back on the standard, Oh he's a greasy bat, (git, vampire - take your choice -) reply that most students would give. 'I think he's a very brilliant man, but he has very little patience for people whose intelligence doesn't match up to his own. He's socially inept, but also incredibly hard working and dedicated. He stretches us to the extent of our abilities, and therefore make us better students -' Hermione gaped at Mandy's assessment, not only for it's accuracy and unbiased fairness, but for the realisation which came with it that Draco had the situation pegged down to a T. She would never have believed that the Slytherin could be so perceptive or observant. Lately she was uncomfortably forced to face the fact that her own prejudices had affected her ability to see Draco clearly. He was turning out to be so much more, so much deeper than he appeared on the surface. It was nastily humbling, and she didn't like it much. 'Oh, and his voice - it's like pure sex,' Mandy leant over and whispered to Hermione mischievously, 'Can't you just imagine that voice whispering naughty things into your ears as he takes you to bed!'

Hermione had been utterly unprepared for that revelation, and her shock sent her scrambling to her feet. Mandy giggled at her reaction and the other girls spun around to see what was so funny, but Mandy shook her head and mouthed, Tell you later! behind the Head Girl's rigidly embarrassed back. 'I have to - I need to talk to Malfoy,' Hermione spluttered out, swinging away from the table and walking straight into Anthony Goldstein who appeared to have been making his way across to the Gryffindor table to talk to her. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Thank Merlin; someone normal!

His face lost its cheerful smile as he took in her flushed cheeks and flustered demeanor. 'What's the matter, Hermione?' he asked in concern.' Are you feeling ok?'

'Yes, I'm fine! I am really. Just had a little shock, that's all. I was just on my way to see Malfoy. I have to update him on some stuff for the social evening. Do you want to come along with me?'

Tony found his smile again, agreeing quickly and they walked towards the Slytherin table. In truth Hermione was glad of his support; despite the easier atmosphere between herself and Malfoy, approaching the Slytherin Prince in his lair was still a pretty daunting task, particularly under the venomous eyes of people like Pansy Parkinson, whom Hermione was still waiting on to hex her over the episode with the spying. Great Merlin, thank the Gods she had backed out of that disaster before Draco had first touched his mouth to hers.

Malfoy turned around as she approached the table, seeming to know she was coming to him. Goyle or Crabbe, sitting opposite him may have given him advance warning, and a smile seemed to be forming itself on his face until he saw who was standing at her elbow, and it fizzled out into a more habitual scowl. 'Goldstein,' he acknowledged curtly. 'Granger, do you need something?'

Hermione was aware of Tony stiffening up beside her marginally, and wondered what the problem between the two men was. She had always thought that Tony had been on the Slytherin list of acceptable outsiders before. Maybe it was all down to Head Boy; Draco had it, Tony had wanted it and each felt threatened by the other. They were certainly bristling towards each other now like a couple of dogs readying for a fight. She determined to step in before there was any unpleasantness. 'Yes, I wanted to tell you I went up to the Headmaster and mentioned your hat suggestion -' she began and Draco's attention was fully back on her again.

'You did? But I thought we were doing that together - I would have come with you.' He said irritably, and she gaped at him.

'That was definitely not what you implied last night!' she hissed, too annoyed to monitor her words. 'You definitely told me to go and do it myself! Well I did! And it will help, but we have to go back to Dumbledore's office to do it.'

People were beginning to take an interest in their little altercation now. The whole of the Slytherin table was staring avidly, and a few people from other tables had turned their way also. Hermione was mad at him for being so inconsistent, but Draco - unreasonably jealous that Goldstein had pushed his way between them again - just wanted to snap at anyone. He resisted the temptation to hex boils all over the Ravenclaw's face, and stood from his seat.

'Come on then, Granger,' he snapped. 'Let's go and see the Headmaster.' He grabbed her wrist and began tugging her after him. Pansy began to rise in protest, but one look at Draco's face warned her to stay put, and she subsided back onto the bench.

Tony also made as if to follow them, but Hermione quickly shook her head pulling faces at him. It'll be ok, she mouthed before she had to turn back to Malfoy or be in danger of falling over her own feet. Draco continued pulling her behind him until they had achieved a good distance from the Great Hall, when he suddenly slowed down and pushed her sideways into a small alcove behind a suit of armour.

'Ok,' he muttered as she tried to catch her breath. 'Why is that Ravenclaw always hanging about these days? Every time I turn around I seem to fall over him!'

'What?' she hissed. 'You drag me out of the Great Hall in front of half the students and teachers like a crazy person, and all you have to say for yourself is to ask about Anthony Goldstein? Are you nuts?'

Suddenly deflated, Draco fell back against the wall beside her. 'Probably,' he muttered. 'Why don't you tell me what the Hat said to you?'

Hermione blushed as she remembered the revelations about Draco's younger self, and tried to concentrate on the neutral things she could share with the Head Boy. She slid slowly down until she was sitting on the floor and after a slight hesitation, Draco dropped to join her. He listened as she spoke quietly about the hat's sadness over the lack of unity within the school, and of Dumbledore's opinion of Dilman Pringle, and as he let her voice wash over him, his fingers were inching slowly across the space that divided them until they closed hesitantly around her own.

Her words faltered slightly at the contact, but then she returned his clasp with a reassuring squeeze and continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She told him finally although grudgingly that he had been right about Mandy Brocklehurst, and recounted edited parts of her conversation with the other girl, to his great amusement.

When they finally stood up again and left the alcove, Hermione was feeling a lot happier than she had earlier. She just wished that she could understand the sudden mood swings Draco was exhibiting. Just when she had thought they were managing to create some kind of harmony between them he seemed to fly off kilter for no apparent reason. She wondered if she would ever be able to be completely comfortable around the formerly always (and currently sometimes) impossible Slytherin. He had held on to her hand until he checked that no one would see them emerge from behind the rusty armor, and had then walked back to the main entrance at a distance of several feet, as if being any closer to her would possibly contaminate him. He was totally incomprehensible to her, the prat, and the more insights she got the more confusing he became.

'I have patrol duty tonight,' he said stiffly as they parted company before the Great Hall. 'I have to meet Hannah Abbott at 10.00. Perhaps we could spend a bit of time going over the seating again beforehand. So far we seem to have only assigned 3 out of the 53 guests. If we keep up at this speed, we might have everyone arranged by sometime in the New Year! I'm sure that won't make Mr Pringle very happy this Saturday though.'

Hermione giggled slightly at this. She was only just coming to appreciate his dry humour, and the minute answering twitch of his top lip told her that he knew she had enjoyed his sarcasm. She made her way to the library feeling a lot better than she had in weeks. It would probably only last until the next minor skirmish between them but it felt pretty good right now.

*******************

They met outside by the main doors as they had done the Saturday before. Draco had only managed to maintain his cool façade throughout the week by imagining the long dark journey back from Hogsmeade and his plan to escalate their intimacy by small stages during every visit.

A delicious rumour had reached his ears by way of Blaise Zabini on Thursday evening; the word in the other houses that Ron Weasley had been 'put on hold' was the phrase Blaise had used, until the end of the school year. Reports were in that the Head Girl had no time for romance because her work schedule was too heavy, and that the Weasel had been asked to wait until after they had completed 7th year.

Hah!

Draco had thought, Over my dead body will he ever get her back! Blaise had imparted this life-altering news in such a casual offhand manner that Draco might possibly have overlooked it had his inner radar not been so finely tuned to any sentence which contained the words Granger, Head Girl or Ron Weasley. Draco had been sitting in his place at the head of the Slytherin table and had just agreed - against his better judgement - to approach Professor McGonagall on behalf of Julian Webster, a third year who had lost twenty house points over the absence of a homework assignment. Blaise was sitting with Pansy - bless him, he seemed to have taken it upon himself to keep her out of Draco's hair as much as possible. Pansy was as usual bemoaning the state of her love life, and had been making nasty comments about all the other couples who would have to be separated for the Social evening.

Her vitriol was especially reserved for the Head Girl and Draco had almost filtered out her complaints about Hermione when Blaise remarked mildly, 'Pans, I hear they aren't even together any more. It appears Granger wanted more time for her studies, and asked Weasley if they could cool things off until the end of the year. So I doubt she'll be in tears about him having to sit elsewhere.'

'They've what?' Pansy all but screeched, then burst out into giggles. 'I always knew she wasn't as clever as they all said. Who else would ever look at her? Stupid, ugly little Muggle swot. Should have hung on to the only boy stupid enough not to mind that hair!' More of the same followed, whilst Draco sat glued to his seat unable to decide whether to give into the burning rage which wanted to hex her for saying such obnoxious things about Hermione, or to leap up and dash over to the Gryffindor table and demand to know if it was true.

He stared fixedly at his planner trying to keep all traces of emotion off his face and pretend he wasn't even listening to their conversation. He needed more information, damn it! Unwittingly, Blaise came through. 'Pansy,' he rebuked mildly, 'You know that's not true any more. She's nothing like the disaster she was in first year - and she's actually a nice person, too! Maybe you should get to know her -'

'Zabini, you've been drinking too much fire whiskey! I think your brain is rotting. When have you ever talked to Granger -how could you possibly know what she's like?' Pansy snorted, and Draco echoed silently, Yes, when did you talk to her, and why don't I know about it?

'I've spoken to her,' Blaise commented. 'She's always been very accommodating when I've approached her. And I listen to what other people have to say; she's held in quite high regard by all the houses. Everyone can't be wrong. I think Goldstein is going to try for her, anyway. Be interesting to see if she was serious about devoting her time to her studies, or if it was just an excuse to dump Weasley.'

Therefore, when Draco arrived for their appointment with Mr Pringle, flushed with his new knowledge of her single state and his own plans for the afternoon - and found Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbott and Padma Patil also waiting with Hermione - he thought he had walked into some weird alternate universe.

Pansy immediately clutched his arm desperate to stake her claim publicly before anyone else had a chance to speak. 'Draco!' she cooed, 'Isn't it exciting? Hannah spoke to Professor Sprout and got her to approve us all coming into Hogsmeade so that we can inspect the facilities on behalf of our Houses, too.'

'Oh really, Pansy?' Draco growled darkly as he prised her fingers off his sleeve and set her at arms length away from him. 'In that case I don't perceive there's any need for you to come then, as I will be able to conduct any and all inspections on behalf of Slytherin.' His frustration knew no bounds; who could have allowed this to happen, just when he was so close to getting somewhere with Hermione. His eyes were drawn helplessly to the Head Girl, only to find that she was staring hard at Pansy as if she couldn't decide whether to resent her intrusion, or giggle at the mortified expression on her face.

Of course, eventually her Gryffindor sense of fairness won out; Draco realised he would have been disappointed if it hadn't even though it sentenced them to an afternoon with Parkinson. 'That's a bit harsh, Malfoy,' she stated briskly. 'They've all been given permission to come by one of the Professors; I don't think either of us actually have the authority to rescind that. Shall we go to the carriage?'

Pansy looked momentarily as if she would refuse to go on principal because it was Granger who had supported her right to do so, and Draco tried to send stay here vibrations across the intervening space, but in vain. Pansy - probably for the first time in her life - bit her tongue and behaved sensibly. She turned and followed Hannah and Padma who had already started towards the waiting coach.

Draco waited for Hermione to walk past him and caught her wrist briefly. He didn't say anything until she turned to look curiously at him, and even then merely smiled at her. She paused a moment and finally returned a dazzling smile which made his heart rate accelerate and his toes curl up in his boots .

When they emerged into the driveway it was to find that the other 7th year prefects were still waiting by the side of the coach. Hermione's smile faltered as she asked, 'What are you waiting for?'

'The door won't open,' Pansy replied snottily. The epithet stupid was implied but unspoken.

Hermione frowned and walked up to the carriage, turning the handle easily and standing back to allow the other girls to enter. 'It must be charmed to work just for us,' Draco murmured in her ear as he came to stand beside her. He thought he saw a shiver run along her spine as he put particular emphasis on the word us.

Hannah and Padma had seated themselves on one side of the coach and Pansy was hovering indecisively as if she couldn't decide where to sit, which was awkward as the interior of the carriage was neither sufficiently high nor wide to encourage standing around. Hermione sighed, sitting down opposite the other two girls and left Draco to sort the rest of the seating out. In his mind, there was no competition; he could either sit with Padma and Hannah and avoid Pansy altogether or he could sit with Granger and have Pansy attach herself to his other side. He dropped into the seat beside Hermione and within seconds Pansy had squirmed in on his other side. He made a deliberate point to fidget in his seat to emphasize the lack of space before arranging himself so that he achieved the maximum possible contact with the Head Girl along the length of their bodies.

The journey passed with excruciating slowness. Hermione conducted a conversation with the girls opposite her, which Pansy had no interest in, leaving Draco to deal with her flirting and suggestions. He truly thought he might have gone mad if it hadn't been for the grounding touch of Granger's side pressed against his. She made no overt move to return his contact, but she had made no attempt to move away from him, either. He wished he had the nerve to slip a hand over and take a hold of hers under the cover of their robes, but he didn't think it was dark enough even in the dimly lit interior for that to go unnoticed. On the way back, though........

When they arrived at the hotel and the purple uniformed door wizard approached the coach, Pansy bounced out first, obviously intending to be lying in wait for Draco when he emerged. She found herself outsmarted when Draco took the opportunity to graciously hand the other girls down the step to the ground, and if his hand held Hermione's tighter and a fraction longer than either Hannah or Padma's then only the two of them were aware of the fact.

At the reception desk, Draco requested that one of the porters be allowed to show the girls around the function facilities and the suites available for the guests whilst he and Hermione kept their appointment with Dilman Pringle. Pansy looked ready to object, but managed to stifle it for she knew they had been lucky to negotiate this much involvement. The Head Girl and Boy left to meet their host and the others sat in the lobby waiting for their guide.

Draco knocked on Pringle's door and when they received a muffled Enter, he opened it for her and allowed Hermione to precede him into the office. He placed his hand in the small of her back as they walked to the chairs Pringle had placed before his desk.

Hermione was a bundle of nerves; she was unable to decide whether all the fleeting touches and moments of contact were deliberate or whether she was reading too much into simple acts of courtesy. If it were anyone other than Malfoy, she would have opted for the latter, but despite his enormous improvement in attitude recently she had never know him to show any courtesy to anyone, Muggle or otherwise, so this new strangely old-fashioned courtliness was quite distracting. She wished she could be sure she wasn't reading more into it because she wanted to rather than because it was actually happening.

Dilman Pringle soon put a stop to her private musings as he took their diagrams and plans off Draco, spreading it across his desk and snorting loudly at their attempt. They truly had put a considerable effort into having something to show Pringle. Hermione privately thought it wasn't too bad for a first draft, although after having consulted with the Sorting Hat for thirty minutes last night, they had both accepted that several things would need changing. Hermione had never realised a hat could laugh at you beforehand; it was a sobering experience.

After he contained himself, Pringle assessed them across the span of his desk. 'I suppose it could have been worse,' he conceded eventually. 'At least you put some effort into it. You do realise it's quite acceptable to ask for help. You might find that insight from your teachers could be quite useful in a project of this nature. They have after all been observing you for seven years.'

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances. Pringle's amenable behaviour seemed very changed from the previous week. 'We did ask the Sorting Hat to give an opinion,' Hermione ventured eventually when Draco seemed unwilling to offer anything.

Pringle's eyes lit up considerably. 'Hmmm, did you indeed?' he asked eyeing them speculatively. 'I am quite impressed. That does show a spirit of independent thinking. We'll look at this again next weekend; if you consult with the teaching staff I think you might find you have a working plan by then. For today, let's look at menus, and allow me to show you some examples of the entertainment available at the hotel.'

Two hours passed faster than they could have imagined, and soon Pringle was shaking their hands and seeing them out of his office. His smile was bigger and more genuine today, and for some reason it gave Hermione a sense of achievement that they had somehow managed to please the odd little man.

Upon returning to the lobby, they found the other three girls to be nowhere in sight. The wizard at the reception desk informed them that the tour of the hotel had been concluded in under an hour, so they had headed to the village leaving a message that they would return at 4.00, if Draco and Hermione had not come to find them before that.

Immediately, Hermione felt her pulse pick up; she wasn't sure if she wanted Draco to suggest they follow the others, or suggest that they didn't.

Draco was determined not to return to the castle until it was dark out. Pansy and the other prefects had totally ruined his journey out here; he was hoping the dim interior of the coach would disguise some hand-holding and modest snuggling, since anything more erotic was obviously out of the question. Hermione had not seemed to object to the minor physical liberties he had been taking this week, so he was going to enjoy all the opportunities he could. He just wished she would fess up to the termination of her relationship with Weasley before he totally lost his credibility and begged her to confirm it was over.

'They have a coffee bar here, I think,' he suggested as they stood uncertainly in the hotel lobby. 'We could go there and wait for the others.'

Hermione was vacillating between running off in search of safety in numbers, and the illicit desire to spend more time alone with him. 'Don't you have things you need to get in the village?' she compromised eventually, throwing the ball back into his court.

'I do,' he said thoughtfully, 'But all the 7th years are having a Hogsmeade visit next Saturday, so it can wait until then. Let's go and get something from the bakery and wait for the girls.'

Hermione scolded herself for the rush of pleasure that went through her at the realisation that he preferred to spend an hour with her than to chase the others up and return to the school. All of a sudden she remembered that there were no lights in the carriage and wondered if she could manage to sit next to him on the way back to Hogwarts as well.

God, she had it so bad!


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione passed the following week in a hazy confusion.

After their appointment was over, she and Draco had sat in the bar at the Felton Arms waiting for the other girls; Draco had convinced her that she should be adventurous and order a cocktail. When she protested, he had pointed out quite rightly that since she was already eighteen it was certainly legal in both his and her own worlds, and when she asked him how he knew her age and he had actually snorted. 'Granger, those idiots you hang around with are loud enough to wake the dead! Did you honestly think we wouldn't hear them singing to you all the way from the Slytherin table on your birthday? And that's aside from the fact that our study looked like a florist shop for a whole week. Unlike those thick heads you call friends, I do notice what goes on around me.'

Hermione had glared at him, not sure if she wanted to make the effort to get annoyed on Ron and Harry's behalf. Malfoy had certainly been improving by leaps and bounds over the past couple of weeks, but she supposed it was too much to ask that he include the boys in his new camaraderie. That thought led to other less attractive images of Malfoy treating Ron and Harry to the same type of friendship that she had enjoyed so much from him recently, and the attending squickiness of that whole train of thought led her to swallow back the innocuous looking pink beverage Draco placed before her with more speed than was probably wise.

The result of this foray into alcohol proved to be a very giggly Hermione, who was wobbling graciously as they boarded the coach back to Hogwarts. Padma, nursing a sense of responsibility to her twin's house mate, gave Draco some very dark looks when she and the other girls returned to the Hotel and found Hermione sitting counting the stars on the door wizard's robes, whilst the poor man tried to maintain his dignity as best he could. Draco was merely watching her thinking what an adorable little drunk she made, when Padma and Hannah arrived and tried to hustle her towards the coach. Pansy merely sniffed in Slytherin superiority, as if this just proved everything she had ever said about Muggles.

Draco had been suddenly apprised of the danger of losing his seat next to Hermione by the proprietary manner in which Padma and Hannah were negotiating her into the coach, and was quick to rush and assist them, thus ensuring his chosen place beside her. This time Padma planted herself on the other side of Hermione, leaving Pansy stewing across from them with Hannah.

He had picked up her hand as soon as the carriage began moving, and neither of them made any attempt to light their wands to illuminate the inside of the coach as they had the previous week. The other girls didn't seem to think of it either and the journey was quiet, punctuated only by Padma and Hannah's desultory conversation about the Hotel and their shopping. They tried to include Pansy, but she just ignored them and they soon stopped bothering; Hermione, they had obviously decided was too tipsy to participate, and Draco being a guy, too disinterested. This suited him fine as it left him free to concentrate on how Hermione was drawing little symbols on the palm of his hand and curling her foot around his ankle under cover of the darkness. Obviously it had been unwise to ask the thestrals to take the long way home with all these other people present, so Draco had to make the best of his opportunity while it was there.

By the time they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Hermione had sobered up sufficiently that embarrassment was the dominant emotion she was feeling. Even the knowledge that she had been playing footsie with Draco Malfoy in the dark paled in comparison to the knowledge that she had almost returned to school intoxicated. She fled very quickly to the Head Girl's rooms, where she stayed until the very last moment before going down to dinner, unable to face Draco again that day.

By the time she had slept off her indiscretion and had to deal with a full day of classes, she felt marginally less embarrassed. She wasn't even sure now if she really had slipped her toes up inside his trouser leg and rubbed them around his calves, or if she had just wanted to do that. That was the problem with the demon drink; it left you unable to separate fact from fantasy.

A brief consultation after the full prefects meeting on Monday night had led to a decision to ask Professors McGonagall and Sprout for some input, preferably concurrent with another session including the Sorting Hat. Although Draco had briefly suggested asking Snape, he hadn't really been serious about the suggestion, and Hermione realised with something akin to shock as his face broke into a large grin, that he had only been teasing her, and that it had been happening a lot lately.

Hence the current state of confusion.

They worked hard on their seating plan, and actually felt that they might have created something which could work. On Friday night they conjured a holographic model similar to the one Pringle used in his office the first day, which Hermione had discovered in a text from the Home Economics section of the library (an area she had ventured into only very rarely) called Entertaining Pitfalls, and Spells to Avoid Them. The model had been left overnight and by the following morning all but one of the tables was till intact, and only three of the miniature guests were suffering from hexes.

Funnily enough, in all of the permutations of seating plans they had tried and rejected over the course of the week, one thing remained constant and that was the positioning of Hogwarts Head Boy and Girl beside each other, regardless of whom else came and went around them.

This Saturday there was no luxury of a coach to transport them to Hogsmeade. Although the 7th year came with greater freedom to visit the village, on a day such as this when Dumbledore had additionally decided to give the whole school from the 3rd years upwards permission to leave the school, it was expected that the students would reach Hogsmeade under their own steam.

Therefore, Draco was not privileged to accompany Hermione whom he had seen being dragged unhappily along by the two girls she had previously shared a dormitory with, and also Padma Patil and Ginny Weasley. He watched like a lovesick fool until she disappeared round a bend in the road and passed from his sight, then heaved a large sigh tightening his cloak and scarf before he turned back to the school to wait for Greg and Vince who really needed help dressing themselves so as not to turn up looking like overstuffed Christmas puddings.

He came up unexpectedly against Blaise Zabini who was hovering just behind him with a speculative look on his face. Blaise looked at Draco and then off down the road again. 'What's so interesting over there, Malfoy?' He asked curiously. 'I thought you were trying to bore holes in the street you were staring so hard!'

'Just thinking about something,' Draco dismissed. He knew Zabini was very intelligent and also very observant. It would not do at all for someone like him to find out Draco was mooning over the Head Girl. In Zabini's hands such a thing could just become a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder.

'Draco - about Pansy's little charm,' Blaise began. 'I thought you were going to deal -'

Draco had never been so relieved to see his two erstwhile friends strolling up towards him. 'Where have you guys been?' He asked waving his wrist at them. 'I thought I said 9.30; it's nearly 10.00 now.' Vince and Greg both began explaining at once, and Draco turned and shrugged apologetically to Blaise, trying not to look too much as if he had just been rescued from a very uncomfortable situation. 'Oh, never mind!' He said impatiently to his companions. 'I'm getting cold standing here, let's get a move on.'

**********************

Hermione trailed behind the Patils, Ginny and Lavender. Realistically she knew that this shopping expedition was necessary. She had not attended a formal dressy event such as the Yule Ball had been in 4th since - well, since the Yule Ball in 4th year! She had tried on the pale blue outfit which she had worn then, and been astonished at the changes in her body which she had barely noticed happening. There was no arguing with the fact that new robes were a necessity. The blue robe was two inches too short (was I really that small in 4th year? I'm not very tall now!) and she didn't even want to remember how her chest had looked spilling out over the top of the neckline. A sudden gust of wind and her nipples would have been on display for the whole school to see, and that would be a very revealing sight if she had to sit with Malfoy all evening!

'You really must let us guide you this time,' Lavender was insisting as they walked towards the village. 'That blue dress was okay for a little girl, but you're an adult now. So don't be afraid to show it! With your colouring, I think you should be wearing green. It will bring out the highlights in your hair. Parvati and I are going to do your hair -'

'But -' Ginny protested, for she knew she had done an exceptional job for the Halloween Ball. Hermione let their arguing wash over her. She had lost track of the conversation with Lavender's colour selection. Green, she thought Slytherin colours - Draco's colours. Do I want to be that obvious? Will he understand what it means? Do I even know what it means? Does it actually mean anything at all? She shivered with the implications of what she was considering.

They had to see Pringle again at 1.00. That should give her time with the girls to choose an outfit. Would she be able to look him in the eye this afternoon if she had a set of green robes in her shopping bag; robes that she had purchased specifically to send him a message? She was still pondering this dilemma when they arrived at Gladrags. Parvati shook her head at the other girls. 'Not here,' she said. 'It's too obvious. We know a place round the corner which most of the Hogwarts students haven't found yet.' She looked furtively around as if expecting to be followed and when she decided there were no spies about, she led them down a narrow side street until they came to a halt outside a small boutique which hardly seemed big enough to contain the five of them, let alone a sales staff and a clothing range.

The twins noticed the other girls eyeing the storefront doubtfully, and tugged them forwards. 'Don't worry,' Padma said cheerfully. 'It's like the Tardis - much bigger on the inside.' Hermione, being the only person to understand the analogy, raised her eyebrows and pushed the door open.

***

Somehow, Draco lost Vincent and Gregory. He had briefly caught sight of Hermione being ushered along the street by her Gryffindor girl friends, and had been unable to concentrate on anything else until she disappeared down a side street. When he shook himself out of his daydream, the other boys had also vanished. Familiarity led him to suppose he would find them either in Zonko's or Honeydukes. He sighed at his inability to focus around the Head Girl and marched off to try the joke shop; unfortunately this resulted in him walking past the Post Office just as Pansy came out.

Her delight at catching him alone knew no bounds, and before he could even muster up a protest, she had caught hold of his arm and was dragging him along behind her babbling excitedly about getting a man's opinion about the robes she had in mind for the Social evening. Nothing he said made any impression on the girl's determination to drag him into the robe shop with her, and he was just about to dig his heels in and refuse to proceed a step further, when he realised that her destination was not Gladrags as he had previously assumed, but another store he was unfamiliar with. The one and only boutique situated on the side street Hermione had disappeared down earlier.

The possibilities were tantalizing; without Pansy though, he had absolutely no excuse to enter a ladies clothing store. With Pansy, however......well, the opportunities were endless. He picked up his pace, and was actually leading Pansy by the time they arrived at the storefront.

'Go and pick out something, Pans,' he directed quietly. 'I'll just sit on one of these chairs here and you can nip out of the changing rooms and show me.' Pansy looked beyond delighted that he was being so cooperative, and rushed off happily to do his bidding. Even the discovery around the first rack of robes, that the despicable Head Girl was also in the store could not dampen her glee.

Draco however, had totally forgotten Pansy the minute she turned away. He chose a seat close to the changing room doors, obviously placed for long-suffering wizards to sit as they waited for their partners to parade in front of them for approval in succession of gowns. He decided to cast a distracting spell around himself; he knew that this would avert the Gryffindor girls attention away from him as if the chair was still empty, but since he had told Pansy he would be there she would be immune to the charm.

He was still congratulating himself on such a cunning plan when the object of his thoughts advanced on the changing rooms being trailed by the Brown girl. They both had an assortment of robes draped over their arms, and Lavender was saying bossily, 'You have to come out and let me see you in all of those robes, Mione. Don't even think of rejecting something because you think it shows too much skin. Parvati and I are going to have the final say in this! There is absolutely no point in arguing with us!'

If it wouldn't have given away his presence, Draco would have cheered the girl's instructions. What a piece of luck! He thought he heard Hermione muttering as she entered the cubicle, 'Resistance is futile!' in a sarcastic undertone, and his grin spread even wider as he recognised the Muggle culture reference. He was so glad he had charmed that dvd player in his room, and even happier that Hermione seemed to have the same taste in movies that he did.

Pansy was taking an eternity to find something she liked, for which Draco was enormously grateful. He had known she was an indecisive shopper, having been tortured into accompanying her in the past. Now, it seemed like a Godsend that she was still burrowing around in the racks, giving him leisure to watch as Hermione spun out of the changing room first in a deep violet outfit which showed her assets off very well, and caused uncomfortable tightening in his fly area. This was rejected by the panel of judges, although Draco was moaning internally No, what's wrong with it? The second choice, in a midnight blue colour also contributed to his rising temperature. It was very demure in front, but after being dismissed by the panel it was revealed when Hermione turned back into her cubicle, to have a deep V back which plunged so far down that he could see the elastic of her knickers. Draco bit his lip until he drew blood. Even he could see what was wrong with that one; he would have felt like he needed to stand behind her all evening so that none of the other men present could look at that which belonged to him.

Hermione emerged next in a dark green velvet outfit, which seemed to shimmer as she moved. The neckline was modest yet till showed enough of her cleavage to leave him as hard as a rock. It was fitted in to her waist then swirled out into a full skirt. As she stood before him and her friends and twirled around, he could see that there was a slit in the skirt which showed a considerable amount of bare leg, and he clenched his teeth together so as not to let out a moan. Somehow, looking at her wearing his House colours was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen. That one. Pick that one! He thought urgently.

Lavender and Parvati were silent; Ginny Weasley raised a red eyebrow, waiting for the verdict and Padma just rolled her eyes. The decision was removed from them however, when Hermione announced in a voice, which bore no discussion. 'You can stop thinking now. I'm going to have this one; you were right Lavender. I fancy something in green this year!'

Draco almost choked and gave away his presence. He could hardly believe she had said that, and with such an expression on her face also! From her words, he could infer that Lavender Brown had suggested she wear a green gown for the Social, but the secretive smirk she wore as she made her pronouncement just begged for him to hope that she meant something more by those deceptive words. The Weasley girl seemed to give her an odd look also, but said nothing, and Lavender finally pronounced. 'No, I think you're right actually. That colour does wonders for your hair. When Parvati and I have finished with styling it, nobody will recognise you.'

The decision being made, the girls dispersed back into their cubicles, and not a moment too soon, for Pansy finally found something to try on herself. She had a liking for pink in all of its shades, which was unfortunate as the colour did little for her own pale features and tended to make her look drawn and washed out. Draco waited until the Gryffindors had exited the changing area and made their way towards the till, before he removed the distraction charm.

Pansy emerged from the changing room in her first outfit, and called excitedly to him. 'Draco, do you like this one on me?' She was twirling in front of him, and as she spun away he took the chance of glancing over to the cash desk and found Hermione staring back at him, an alarmed look on her face. He winked at her, knowing that she was desperately trying to work out how he had gotten into the shop without her noticing him. They might have stayed staring at each other until the sun went down if Pansy hadn't chosen that moment to smack him lightly on the shoulder and ask in a louder voice. 'Draco - what do you think of it.'

He made a suitably vague comment and she went to try on the next outfit. By the time he felt safe to search out Hermione again, she had paid for her purchase and was gone.

*****

Their meeting with Dilman Pringle was irritatingly busy. Draco had found Mr Pringle waiting in the lobby for them when he arrived - ten minutes early, hoping to catch a few private words with Hermione before they had to make for Pringle's office. Hermione came through the revolving doors right on time and pinned a smile on her face as she joined them.

Pringle finally decided that he liked their seating plan, and moved on to the menu. He took them to the kitchens and produced aprons, which he told them to wear. He then set them to slicing vegetables and left them in the hands of the head chef, telling them it would be a good experience to find out exactly how a kitchen worked. Draco, who had never so much as had to boil water for himself, looked horrified, but eventually managed to cut his share into adequate pieces without drawing blood after Hermione hissed at him to imagine he was in Potions dicing ingredients.

By the time Pringle collected them from the service of the chef, quite a large contingent of the 7th year had found its way down to the hotel to examine the venue for their entertainment. Blaise Zabini was just exiting the bar area, followed by Vince and Greg whom Draco still had not yet managed to hook up with since Pansy had abducted him from outside the Post Office. Parvati Patil and Longbottom were also admiring the lobby area, and they began to make their way over when they spotted Granger.

Blaise arrived first. 'Spectacular place, Draco,' he said cheerfully. 'You look a bit flustered. Everything ok?'

Draco scowled and didn't seem to be planning an answer, so Hermione chipped in. 'Oh, we just had to spend an hour in the kitchens helping the chef prepare dinner. It was part of Mr Pringle's learning experience.'

Blaise smiled politely, 'Hello, Hermione,' he said smoothly. 'Did Malfoy really attempt cookery?'

'Oh, absolutely,' Hermione replied eagerly. 'Believe me, you don't tell Dilman Pringle no!'

Draco's scowl grew deeper. Since when was Blaise on such friendly terms with Hermione? Since when did he start calling her by her first name? And when had Granger become so chatty with the other Slytherin boy?

These questions were destined to remain unanswered, for by then Parvati and Longbottom had reached them and they drew Hermione away with them unapologetically. As she followed her friends, Hermione turned back and said, 'Goodbye Blaise, Malfoy.' She nodded at the other two silent Slytherin boys. 'Goodbye, Gregory, Vincent,' she added, and was gone.

Draco glared at his friends. Blaise merely smiled calmly, whilst Vince and Greg wore identical confused expressions. 'I didn't even think she knew my name,' Vince muttered at last, and Greg added enthusiastically, 'Yeah, that's neat isn't it? The Head Girl knows who we are!'

'What the Hell just happened here?' Draco demanded at last, wondering why he felt like he was the only person missing the punch line of a joke. 'Why do you lot all suddenly seem to have developed a fan club for Granger?'

Blaise leveled a calculating look on the Head Boy. 'We haven't done any such thing,' he stated firmly. 'We've just decided to try this inter-house unity thing that Dumbledore wants, so we figured we might as well start at the top. I happened to see her in the corridor on Thursday and Greg wanted to ask her if she'd ever seen a real kangaroo, so we stopped and had a nice chat. It's nothing sinister. You're working with her all the time anyway - surely you've realised she's not that bad by now?'

Draco tried not to choke on his response and mumbled something to the effect that it could have been worse, before announcing that he was going back to Hogwarts to practice Quidditch. He was fully aware that his behaviour was odd bordering on suspicious, but the sight of Hermione in that dress followed by his inability to find a moment alone with her, and now crowned by Blaise's new camaraderie with her which no one had thought to mention to him, had made him very out of sorts, and he needed to escape before he did anything else to pique his cunning housemate's curiosity.

***************

Hermione was sitting in her old dorm room, with her back to the mirror. She was not at all looking forward to this evening's experiment. She had exhausted her goodwill quota with the shopping trip this afternoon. She really did not want to be sitting here this evening letting Parvati and Lavender experiment with new hairstyles for the dinner party.

Unfortunately they had caught her at a weak moment when her schizophrenic mental voices were arguing about the motivation behind the green dress, and she had nodded absently before her brain engaged and registered exactly what she had agreed to. Otherwise she was sure she would never have allowed herself to be manipulated into this position.

Lavender turned her away from the mirror announcing that she wasn't to look until they had finished. The mirror was silenced by a binding spell so that it could not make any comments, and Hermione - if not actually happy to let them play - was at least willing. Lavender and Parvati were both pretty girls, with seemingly good fashion sense, so where was the harm, except to her homework schedule?

Hermione was unable to prevent her thoughts from drifting off towards Malfoy with nothing more academic to occupy her mind. What had he been doing in that store with Pansy, she wondered? Pansy had been an even bigger bitch than ever before since revealing some of her inner thoughts to Hermione that day in Herbology when she asked for the Head Girls assistance in spying on Draco. Once or twice recently, Hermione had only just barely managed to avoid getting a sharp nip from the Venis in class, and the smirk on the Slytherin girl's face would have alerted her to Pansy's involvement, even if she hadn't already been on the lookout for her to try something in retaliation for Hermione's refusal to help her get Draco back.

Did this morning's shopping trip mean that Pansy was succeeding? The older witch in Hogsmeade was history now...had Draco told Pansy about her transfer also? Hermione wished she could think about something else, but the soft chattering of the other girls was not sufficiently interesting, and her mind stubbornly refused to be diverted.

'Hermione, this is going to look so cute!' Parvati gushed, momentarily breaking into Hermione's brooding as she tugged particularly hard on a stubborn curl, causing Hermione to yelp out in pain. 'Ooh, sorry, Mione,' she giggled circling her fingertips over Hermione's scalp in an effort to soothe the sting. 'You're going to love what we're doing here, though!'

'Yes, you'll knock Malfoy's socks off!' Lavender agreed happily, and Hermione choked on a breath.

'What? No! There will be no removal of socks, or any clothing.' She spluttered. 'You better not be doing this to try and impress some boys. I didn't ask Ron to give me space so that I could go chasing off after someone else. Not even Malfoy! Especially not Malfoy! Why are we even talking about Malfoy?' Then she worried if maybe she might have objected too strenuously and inadvertently added more fuel to the fire. Damn, stupid guilty conscience. Stupid overreacting! she cursed inwardly.

'No - don't be silly Hermione!' Parvati protested. 'We just thought that Dumbledore would probably expect you to be sort of like the hosts of this evening, and we all know whatever Malfoy turns up in will probably have cost more than everyone else in the school paid for their robes - put together. We just thought you should look like a million galleons, too!'

Hermione immediately felt bad that she had misjudged their motives, and then miserably aware that her unwarranted outburst had given them plenty of food for speculation. She had to distract them. Throw them of the scent... 'Oh, that's so cunning of you!' She exclaimed, wincing inwardly. 'I hadn't even thought of that. You are so right; I wouldn't want the - the fer- ah - Malfoy showing me up in front of the Ministry and Governors.' She grimaced again; in her own eyes all she seemed to be doing was digging a bigger hole for herself to fall into. Had they noticed that she had stumbled before finally being unable to call Draco ferret, which had previously been her favourite epithet for the Head Boy?

She resolutely relaxed into their hands and forced her thoughts away from Draco Malfoy. She did not, she absolutely and utterly did not care why he had been in a witches clothing boutique with Pansy pug-face Parkinson. She did not.

'Nearly done,' Parvati said, interrupting her thoughts. She was massaging Hermione's head with her fingertips. 'Just wait till you see it!' Hermione thought her head felt very light, and wondered if it was the magic of Parvati's hands; she did give very good massages, everyone in Gryffindor agreed on that.

Lavender spun the chair around and Hermione caught a brief glimpse of chestnut curls laying on the floor out of the corner of one eye. 'Voila!' Lavender cried, as she positioned her before the mirror. Hermione just stared in shock at the girl looking back at her from the silvery surface. All of her hair had gone; the curls and frizz which had plagued her so throughout her whole life were strewn at her feet, and her face was framed with a halo of even tighter corkscrew curls.

Draco Malfoy would definitely be knocked off his feet. He would be rolling around on the floor in hysterics.

Hermione screamed.


	28. Chapter 28

Draco had spent the most frustrating afternoon of this term so far. After returning from Hogsmeade he had stomped through the Slytherin dungeons, finding three other members of his Quidditch team who had not taken advantage of the Hogsmeade visit, and ordering them outside for a practice. They seemed duly horrified, as it was already gone 3.00 and the sky was not only darkening with the impending dusk, but also the threat of rain.

However, their Captain was in a strange mood and they knew better than to provoke his uneven temper, so they reluctantly trailed behind him to the broom store.

A light but persistent drizzle began shortly after they began flying but Draco insisted that they continue practicing. At the time the weather had seemed to suit his mood, but as the hour wore on and the players grumbles became louder and the fouls more frequent, Draco finally lost his temper and sent the remnants of team inside to run laps around the training circuit.

He took their brooms himself to put away, slamming the door on the storage room with such force that he heard a couple of brooms fall over inside, but he didn't bother to rectify the situation. He was cold, wet and hungry, and even after pushing himself to a point of near exhaustion he still couldn't get the picture of Hermione Granger in her Slytherin-green robes out of his head.

He hadn't realised quite how late it had gotten, and as he marched towards the Great Hall for dinner and saw that the large clock in the entrance hall was pointing to Hurry up food's nearly all gone, he acknowledged with a grimace that he probably owed the boys an apology for keeping them outside on the magically lighted Quidditch field for nearly four hours in the rain. He would have to go in to dinner in his wet uniform, and have a shower later.

There were very few students still eating; a couple at each of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, another handful of Gryffindors, but Draco would be the only Slytherin there until his poor victims arrived from the track. He found himself staring at the exact spot where the Gryffindor three usually sat, and suddenly realised that he had spent the past six years sitting in the one position at his own table which gave him the best view of Granger. He wondered if there was some deep mystical meaning to that fact, then told himself that it was just nonsense brought about by hunger.

He rushed the rest of his dinner down and made his way gratefully towards his private rooms, thanking God that he didn't have to share a bathroom with three other boys any longer. Tonight he wanted all the hot water to himself. He didn't really expect to see Granger in the study as he passed through, but nonetheless he still felt a pang of disappointment when she wasn't there.

He went to his own room and shrugged out of his now drying uniform, leaving it in a heap on the floor for the house elves to pick up. He collected a towel and some clean shorts to take into the bathroom with him. It was getting quite late now, and he acknowledged unhappily that he would not be seeing Hermione again today.

Draco decided to take a bath instead of a shower. His clammy wet clothing had made him feel chilled through and his bones were aching after the strenuous practice. He turned on the Wizard Wireless Network as he ran the water into the bath and waited idly by as the bath filled up, listening abstractedly to the music. It was Saturday evening and at this time of night the station played Muggle Request Hour, a selection of only Muggle songs which Draco had come to appreciate more over the previous two summers, away from his father's influence.

He waited until the water had reached a mark inside the bath which read Danger; overflow likely then dipped the tip of his wand into it murmuring a charm to keep it at the correct temperature, before he stripped off and lowered himself into the hot water with a sigh of relief.

He was slowly drifting into a delicious daydream in which Hermione was sharing this bath with him, when the words of the radio d j penetrated his pleasant little fantasy; 'And now we have a request from a venerable figure, a wizard who is an inspiration to us all and a man with a name we all know and love! At the very special request of Professor Albus Dumbledore himself, Headmaster of the world renowned Hogwarts school, I bring you Faith Hill and her lovely song, Breathe. Professor Dumbledore has asked that this song be dedicated to all the young lovers out there, to all the Romeos and Juliets of the wizarding world. So here she is.'

As the music began to play, Draco shot up in the water with a splash that sent a small tidal wave across the bathroom floor. That song! Dear Lord, he had almost convinced himself that he had imagined his closing dance with Granger at the Halloween Ball; the fact that his behaviour had never been mentioned by anyone in his own House had finally led him to believe that the whole thing had been an alcohol induced fantasy which he had liked to bring out and enjoy on several occasions since then. But this - this was too much of a coincidence! That a request for the song should have come from the Headmaster himself, and with such an odd dedication? Draco may not have been a follower of the old wizard, but he knew enough of the old codger's skills and omniscience to accept that there was no such thing as a coincidence where Dumbledore was concerned. After all that was the reason why he had bound all the paintings in the Head's study and his own bedroom with a privacy spell on the first day of term.

His erotic fantasies about Hermione had evaporated for the time being and Draco laid back again, his mind now trying to decipher what Dumbledore could be scheming which involved himself and the Head Girl.

He must have fallen asleep in the bath, because when he finally stirred to get out he was surprised to see it was almost curfew, and therefore a good thing he wasn't scheduled for patrol duty tonight. After drying himself and pulling on the shorts he had brought into the bathroom with him he walked into his bedroom, rubbing at his hair with the towel. He was just about to roll into bed and face another night of tossing and turning and dreaming about the Head Girl, when he heard screaming coming from Hermione's room.

He had snatched his wand from the end of his bed and was halfway across the common room, Alohamora-ing Hermione's door as he went so that it would be open when he reached it, before he was even aware of what he was doing.

The screaming ceased suddenly and he had enough presence of mind to stop on the threshold and check inside before entering in case there were hordes of criminals (Death Eaters?) in there just waiting to capture as many students as possible. He muttered Lumos and shone the beam from his wand into Hermione's bedroom checking all the corners, but all he found was the Head Girl herself, sitting upright in the centre of her bed with both hands fisted into her hair.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was panting hard as if she had run a race. No villain then - apparently just a nightmare. However, even dreams could be dangerous; there were many witches and wizards skilled in the art of invading people's subconscious through the use of psychedelic potions and the power of auto-suggestion, whilst the subject was sleeping.

Draco moved slowly into the room, trying not to startle Hermione. 'You Okay, Granger?' He asked as he approached the bed, and she finally opened her eyes to look at him. Her expression showed confusion and the lingering traces of panic; he immediately wanted to kill whoever it had been that caused this fear to disturb her sleep.

'What happened, Granger?' he continued, dimming the light at the end of his wand now that he was confident there was no threat within her rooms. 'Nightmare? Was it about you-know - ah, Voldemort?'

Hermione wouldn't look at him and instead pulled her hair over her eyes and buried her face in her hands. 'No, it was nothing really. It was just .....silly,' she muttered and he frowned. This was not Hermione - like behaviour. He moved closer and perched carefully on the side of her bed.

'Are you sure? You sounded really freaked,' he pressed. 'You can tell me, you know.'

Hermione shuddered. Apart from the whole embarrassment at the subject of her nightmare and her over-reaction to it, she was totally astonished that he was showing such interest and concern.

'You should tell me,' he pressed. 'It's not good to keep these things bottled up inside. Or should I get one of the - others?'

As he stumbled over his new sensitivity, Hermione was beginning to set her dream into perspective. Here was Draco Malfoy, sitting in her room on her bed, and worrying about her because he felt bad that she had awoken screaming from a nightmare. About a haircut.

Hermione had actually suffered from very few bad dreams over the years; she knew Harry's rest was constantly disturbed by tormenting images of his parents, and other darker images that Voldemort tried to feed him over the years as he increased and then waned in power. Indeed, it wasn't truly until he had begun a more physical relationship with Ginny that he began to see less restless nights. But, considering all the things they had shared and experienced, Hermione rarely suffered from nightmares, and all of a sudden it struck her as extremely funny that Draco Malfoy of all people, should be showing concern because she woke screaming from a dream about her own vanity.

She had never much liked her hair, and all of a sudden it seemed hysterical to her that a dream, no less, about having it all cut off should cause her screaming fits. She took another look at Draco's concerned face and couldn't contain the laughter any longer. She collapsed back onto her pillows giggling helplessly, and Draco stared at her as if she had totally lost her wits, which only made her laugh harder.

'Granger,' he growled. 'What is your problem?'

Hermione finally stifled her giggles and grinned up at him from her spot on the pillows, and Draco found his breath freezing in his lungs at the impact of that smile which he had seen so many times before, but never, ever directed full force straight at him.

He realized all of a sudden what a precarious position he was in physically. He was perched on Hermione Granger's bed dressed in nothing but a towel and a pair of boxer shorts, and now that the adrenaline levels were sinking back to normal he was suddenly aware of things which he had not noticed immediately, and considering the way his body reacted around Granger these days, he thought a hasty but strategic withdrawal was in order.

Hermione was wearing a tight grey tank top with a picture of a monkey printed in the center, and a pair of cotton print shorts with smaller simians leaping around all over them. She was breathing fast from her giggling episode, and Draco's eyes fixated on the outline of her nipples against the thin grey cotton as she breathed in and out. He could feel all his blood rushing downwards, which would be an unconcealable disaster dressed as he was. He bit his tongue and fought against his arousal, clenching all his muscles as he tried to envisage dampening pictures in his mind; Potter humiliating him on the Quidditch field again, Snape teaching double potions naked, Weasley in a pink tutu....and there it was, that one! If he could just hold onto it...he shut his eyes and concentrated very hard on keeping a frilly pink-clad Ron Weasley there on the inside of his eyelids.

'Draco,' he heard Hermione's voice, husky from her laughter and the image wavered, but he refused to open his eyes and look at her, for he knew that if he did he would be lost. 'I am OK, really. It was just a silly girl thing....If you must know, I had this dream that I let Lavender and Parvati give me a make over for the Christmas Social and they wouldn't let me watch them, and then when they turned my chair around and showed me, they had cut all my hair off, and I mean all of it! So you see, it was nothing bad really, just -'

He wasn't strong enough to keep his resolve against these words; his eyes snapped open and he found his gaze ensnared by hers, eyes locked into each others, and the smile faded off her face as her throat became suddenly dry and the intimacy of their situation became apparent to her as well. Draco raked his gaze over her chestnut curls messed up from sleep and her panicked clutching earlier. He reached out one hand and picked up a solitary curl between his thumb and forefinger, and they both watched entranced as her hair wound itself like a twining vine around his finger as if it was enchanted to life, and then tightened until it was secure. Draco raised his eyes slowly back to hers and they were suddenly both breathless.

'Don't ever cut your hair, Granger,' he growled, and the pitch of his voice caused tremors to run from the top of her scalp along the length of her spine and right to the very tips of her toes. She could feel her nipples hardening and a hot damp swelling begin between her legs, and suddenly she understood what words like fecund and yearning meant in all those gothic Muggle romance novels which her mother was so fond of reading. Her body felt like it didn't belong to her any more, like it was getting ready for something she didn't quite understand, but knew was inevitable. She wasn't quite sure what was happening between them, but she knew it was dangerous.

Looking away from his eyes proved to be even more foolish. Draco Malfoy undressed was a truly spectacular sight. His hair was still wet from his shower, and wet it fell into soft curls all over his head; Dear Lord, Malfoy had curls - no wonder he was always so strict with the hair gel. Who would ever take seriously the Prince of Slytherin with a halo of blond curls? He had a dark green towel draped across his shoulders which was a perfect colour to highlight his silver eyes and golden hair. Her attention was captured by his forearms; she had dreamt about Draco's arms many times since the Halloween Ball and seeing them again now, slightly stretched out as he held onto her hair left her breathless and shivery.

It didn't seem to matter where she looked any more. Every part of him had apparently been designed specifically to raise her temperature into the danger zone. He was more compact than either Ron or Harry, but beautifully created. His naked chest like his arms, was lightly coated with golden hair slightly darker than that on his head, and her eyes helplessly followed its path downwards to where it thinned out over his navel and arrowed down into the grey waistband of his shorts. To her astonishment he had a tattoo, which spread out around his navel, of a sunburst; it was inked in russet and orange and the sight of it almost made her drool. It was so unexpected on someone like him, and she realized then that there was no other mark on him anywhere, not even the one that most of the school feared he had been wearing since his father was taken to Azkaban.

But, oh - beneath that tattoo there was nothing before a pair of green boxer shorts in some soft clingy material which devotedly outlined every curve and swell of that which it was meant to contain. Hermione could feel herself flushing, and she knew that Draco could see where she was looking, but she could not turn away. She traced the size and shape of him with her eyes, from the rounded mushroom shaped tip - he had obviously been circumcised as a baby - along the length of his cock and down to the softly rounded swell of his balls which were almost spilling out from the leg cuff, and right before her entranced gaze she watched the changes occur.

Draco was panting now. He defied even Professor Snape to remain in control under the searing heat of her eyes. The fantasy of Ron had evaporated into the boiling steam of his growing arousal....Ron who? He felt her every glance as if it were an actual caress and he was incapable of controlling or concealing his reaction to her. He wanted her to see what she did to him, to watch how helpless he was in the grip of this incomprehensible lust for her. He wanted to know if she felt it too. He wanted to throw her down on the bed and do unspeakable things to her body and hear her scream out his name as he did every single one of them. He wanted to lock her in a room with him and not come out for a month.

Hermione watched as his erection grew, she marked the damp spot which appeared on his shorts, evidence of his growing arousal as he began leaking in readiness for her. She stared mesmerized as his cock swelled until it outgrew the confines of his boxers and the tip of him pushed under the waistband and stood above the edge of his underwear weeping his arousal proudly for her to see. She traced the swollen sacs of his balls with her eyes, tightened up already in preparation for his release, and wished she dared put her hands where her eyes rested.

Of course, tension and arousal stretched to so painful a limit had to snap and it was Draco who broke first. Hermione was too inexperienced to know what was happening to her, but Draco ached for her, to be inside her and incinerate himself in her heat. He spoke only her name, on a hoarse moan, 'Hermione,' he gasped and her eyes flew up to meet his, drowning in the look she saw there; his pupils dilated so there was only a fine ring of silver outlining the black. She felt like she was going to spontaneously combust at that look.

He was not sure which of them moved first; maybe they moved together in perfect synchronicity, but the next second they were falling together back to her pillows, mouths clinging desperately together, hands clutching, bodies writhing, trying to get closer and closer until they became one being. Before her, Draco had never known that kissing could be like this; such a complete and total subjugation of oneself to another person, so deep that she seemed to be drawing his very soul out of his body and into hers. His erection thrust against her stomach, slipping beneath the hem of her monkey shirt and making her tummy sticky and damp from the copious leaking of his arousal. His left leg was thrust between hers and she was whimpering in her throat as she rubbed her own swollen wet flesh against him through the fabric of her shorts.

He drew away from her mouth and she whimpered in distress, which changed to moans of approval as he kissed her face and throat, trailing caresses down her chest until he found her breasts, and without a single thought, ripped the tank top down the centre so he could have better access to her skin. She gasped out a protest, but was secretly thrilled by the primitive gesture, and then all thoughts deserted her as his hot mouth closed on one of her nipples, suckling it and rolling it between his teeth until she was almost in tears from the sensations he created.

He looked up at her from his position, through swirls of hair which had now dried into waves over his forehead. 'I want to do this to you all over,' he hissed into her skin. 'I want to kiss you and taste you in every curve and fold of your body. I want to take hours just learning the silk of your skin and the scent of your arousal....' he stopped briefly in his verbal seduction to lick and caress her other nipple, and Hermione sobbed.

"Yeessss, Oh, please, Draco, I need...I need...I -' she stopped unable to form thoughts. She didn't know what she needed, only that she did. Who would ever have expected it, that Draco Malfoy would love words as much as she did, would know the power of them over another being, would know the exact right words to drive her wild? She caught his head in her hands and dragged him back up to her mouth. She couldn't survive another minute if he wasn't kissing her again. She was the aggressor now, her tongue driving into his mouth, finding his own and playing with it until he took over.

He couldn't wait any longer, his hand grazed down her body to the waistband of her shorts and then lower, inside, until he was sliding them over her hips and away to be forgotten at the end of the bed. He caressed the smooth skin of her behind, learning the curve of her bottom, the silky crease where her leg joined her hips, moving ever closer to the burning centre of her body. She was still rubbing herself against his thigh and without the fabric of her shorts between their naked flesh, he could feel how swollen and wet she was and it made his head spin. She found the friction of the fine hairs on his legs almost unbearable where she was so unbelievably sensitive. His fingers finally found their way between her legs and his thigh and at the first touch of his thumb against her swollen button she jerked and moaned so wildly that he wondered if she had come just from that contact.

She twisted on the bed trying to find an angle which would give her greater contact with his fingers, and knowing exactly what she needed, he slid his middle finger along her slick wet folds, and up into her body while his thumb continued to pass over her swollen clit. She bounced as if she had been electrocuted, and she was truly sobbing now, so close to something that she had never experienced before, and Draco had a terrible thought. She was so responsive he feared he might cum in his shorts, but she also seemed so shocked by what he was doing that he suddenly had to ask before he lost control entirely and blew the whole thing.

'Granger,' he got out between clenched teeth, still unable to stop his fingers and hips from thrusting against her. 'Hermione, have you ever done this before?' He was sure she had never slept with the Weasel, but after all she was a Muggle-born, who spent all her holidays away from the wizarding world and exposed to all those Muggle boys who might not have been anywhere near so blind as he had been for the past few years. His studies this year had led him to believe that sex in the Muggle world was just as accessible if not more so, than it was here in the confines of the school walls.

She gazed at him with huge dazed eyes, not really understanding what he was asking, silently urging him to continue. He gritted his teeth and tried to hang on to his sanity which was dangling by a thread and not helped at all by the need in her eyes, or the movement of her hips. 'Mina, are you a virgin?' he managed with his last grip on reality, and he nearly died on the spot as he read the answer in her face. He sank onto the bed his face buried in her neck, panting hard and fighting for control. 'Don't move,' he hissed. 'Just - just give me a minute.'

'No - don't stop,' Hermione managed to get out. 'Please, you can't stop, not now. I need - something.....' her voice trailed off miserably, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

'We aren't stopping,' he said firmly and saw the relief wash over her face. 'Just going about it differently.' He rolled onto his back pulling her into his side, and they both looked downwards to where his throbbing erection thrust out from his shorts. 'Help me off with them,' he whispered and her hands reached down and pushed the fabric out of the way, as he raised his hips to help her. Now there was nothing restraining his cock and it rose angrily into the cool night air. Draco didn't think he had ever been this hard in his life before. He was swollen and red and aching to be touched, but he knew if he took Hermione like this he would likely rip her apart and he was so close to cumming right now it would be all over before for him before he even broke through her virginity. Two months of nocturnal fantasies had left him so desperate and ready for the reality of this that he knew he was hovering on the verge of screwing the whole thing up.

Hermione deserved her first time to be something special and he couldn't do that right now, but he was the one who was supposed to be experienced and he would have to fix it. 'Give me your hand, I don't want to hurt you - I'm too close - ' he whispered, and she slid her right hand into his own and let him wrap it around the length of his erection. He moaned as he felt her small fingers grip him and shook from his head to his toes with the effort of holding off his monstrous orgasm. He guided her hand a couple of times in the rhythm until she was moving freely herself, and then watched her as she brought him closer and closer to the brink of climax. It took mere seconds until he realized he wasn't going to last, and he groaned out to her. ' Oh, God - Mina, I'm coming - I'm coming now. I can't hold it any more! Don't stop, don't stop! Oh, oh, oh Fuuuck!', and with that his cock erupted with all the force of a volcano. He felt the orgasm start in the depths of his balls and travel like wildfire along the length of his engorged penis until it burst forth all over their joined hands, all over her stomach and his, and sprayed upwards to coat the hardened tips of her nipples with the white cream, and still he came until he couldn't feel his legs and his arms.

When he finally returned to his senses, he saw she was propped up on her elbow watching him with a slight frown and chewing on her bottom lip. He reached out a hand which felt as heavy as lead and caressed her cheek, 'I'm sorry,' he said breathlessly.

'Um, why did -' she began obviously embarrassed, not by his orgasm, but by what she was thinking. 'Um - you said...that... um - we wouldn't stop, but now you've - ah, alone -and we didn't - I ...ah - you know... and I still - ' she trailed off and Draco was enchanted to realise that he understood every single delightful babble, and that she actually wasn't horrified by what he had done, and still wanted him.

He pulled her on top of him and planted kisses all over her face until he could feel her whimpering and rubbing against his thigh again. 'Mina,' he whispered. 'I was too close to make it good for you. I'd have gotten a inch inside and lost it, I'd have hurt you and disappointed you and put you off. But now we've..... taken the edge off, I'm going to spend the whole night showing you exactly how much we are not stopping. Starting right now.'

'But, can you? I mean - so soon? I thought guys couldn't - do it again immediately -'

Hermione began, still hugely embarrassed but determined. Draco took her hand in his again, and moved it back down to where he was still hard and ready for her, taking great delight in the aroused gasp which escaped her lips and the way her eyes flew downwards with little or no embarrassment this time.

'Maybe I couldn't, not for just anyone,' he whispered in her ear. 'But you do things to me Granger, that I never knew it was possible to feel.' He rolled her over onto her back and began licking her breasts and Hermione realized hazily that he was cleaning up the evidence of his previous orgasm with his tongue, and although she could have been incredibly grossed out by his actions, instead she found it unbelievably erotic, and she grabbed his hair pulling his mouth back up to hers so that she could taste him, too.

Draco gasped and pulled away briefly, searching her eyes for evidence that she knew what she had just done, and his perfect little Gryffindor just licked her lips and smiled at him. He was already incredibly hard again, and wondered briefly if he should make her give him another hand job before he took her the first time, but her squirming body rubbing against his leg convinced him that she wouldn't accept any more delays, and Merlin knows, in his whole life he had never wanted anything more than to be inside her right now, right this very minute.

He slipped his hand back between her thighs, moaning as his fingers found the profound wetness leaking from her body onto his leg as she frantically rubbed herself against him in an effort to increase the friction against her swollen clit. He moved himself away from her accompanied by whimpered protests, and spread her out across the bed so that he had access to every part of her arousal. He dipped one finger inside her body, curving it upwards to find her sensitive spots, then joined it with another, all the time keeping up the slow motion of his thumb barely glancing over her nub; she was writhing on the covers now, her whimpers music to his ears. He wanted her so close to orgasm when he entered her that the mere sensation of his cock passing over her clit would send her over the edge, so much so that she would barely even feel the barrier breaking.

She was sobbing again now, actual tears leaking from her eyes and his name sometimes recognizable in the jumble of whimpered words she was gasping out to encourage him to do more, faster, now. Trouble being, his own arousal was once more so overwhelming he wasn't even sure he was capable of judging when she got to that point and taking advantage of it.

Suddenly she let out a wail, 'Ahhhhhhhhhh...' and her body curled up from the mattress. Draco, letting instinct take over, simply rolled over and thrust in. No finesse, no gentle preparation for his entrance, just his body sinking into hers as if it had been created solely for this one moment; and in spite of his carelessness, in the end it appeared that his tactic had worked. He barely felt a tug as he broke through her virginity, and he was fairly sure she didn't even notice for she was sobbing his name and other indecipherable words so loudly whilst her inner muscles pulsed around his cock and nearly brought on his second climax without any movement on his behalf at all.

I can do this, I can do this, he kept repeating over and over, as he held himself motionless within her, waiting for the waves of her release to slow down, but he nearly bit through his lip with the effort of stopping himself from moving. He had never in his whole life experienced anything as beautiful as Hermione Granger coming apart in his arms.

Finally the aftershocks left her body and she stopped shaking and opened her eyes to look at the boy hovering over her. Her face was red and her hair was clinging damply to her sweaty forehead, but her eyes were dark with satisfaction and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He decided she was just about the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life. He touched his forehead to hers and allowed himself another long deep exploration of her mouth, before beginning to move slowly inside her. She gasped as he thrust and her eyes snapped up to his in question.

'Did you think that was it?' he whispered. 'I've only just started....' He watched as her nostrils flared and her eyes dilated again, then began a slow, thorough motion deep inside her body. She began whimpering almost immediately and her legs automatically curled around his hips encouraging him deeper into her warmth. She was incredible, every move she made was as if she had been created especially for him. Draco was so close again that he couldn't see any way to hold off this time, and though he didn't expect that she would be able to come again so soon, he moved his fingers down so that he could caress her insanely sensitive clit and try for a second time.

But his glorious Lioness continued to surprise him; just as he inched his fingers towards her folds his cock nudged against her g spot inside and with a clenching moan that tightened every single internal muscle around his desperate erection, she came again, pushing him so far over the edge that he was in free fall space. He froze, the force of his release so great that every muscle in his body locked; he was incapable of any movement, any sound. All that existed was her body milking him of his seed as his cock erupted into her so long and mind numbingly that he thought his head might explode, and he finally collapsed against her shoulder drained of all but euphoria.

When his brain cells eventually began to reconstruct themselves post orgasm, it finally dawned on him that this was actually real and not just another one of his erotic dreams - it had actually happened; that he really and truly had Hermione Granger in his arms - that he was even now still cradled deep within her body, and it was a thousand - a million times better than any fantasy he had created from a few overheard comments in the Potions corridor.

He burrowed his face into the curve of her neck softly worshiping the skin beneath her ear, whilst she clutched desperately on to him as if she was afraid he would disappear. If he hadn't been so close he would have missed hearing her chanting under her breath like a prayer, 'Oh God, Oh God, Draco -'

He couldn't have put it better himself.


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione struggled slowly through the veils of sleep; for some reason she really wanted to stay where she was. It was very warm and comfortable in her bed this morning and she felt strangely lethargic, which was unlike her; she usually leapt right up to greet the new day with enthusiasm, but she simply couldn't find the motivation for any sudden movements today. She just wanted to snuggle backwards into the warm body which was curled around her like a blanket, and drift back to sleep...

Wait! The what? That was the exact moment in which her brain awoke from its somnolence. There was someone in bed with her! A male someone. And he was naked - she knew this because she could feel the very hard evidence of it against her behind. And so was she! He had one hand curved around her breast, holding her possessively, and it most certainly wasn't Ron's hand - which would have been bad enough to start with! But this was worse. So much worse!

Hermione wriggled slowly away from the intruder in her bed, and although he mumbled and tried to hold her still, he didn't waken and momentarily Hermione was standing beside her own bed gazing with rapidly rising hysteria at the sleeping form of the Head Boy. Her memories of the previous night rushed back at her with all the speed of the Hogwarts Express on the first day of term; images of her own wanton behaviour, her own body surrendering to his hands and mouth, her own voice begging him not to stop - which he hadn't, as the dull throbbing ache between her legs could attest to. Merlin, she ached in places she didn't even know she had places.

No wonder she felt so lethargic when she awoke. She couldn't even remember how many times he had made her come last night either with his body or his hands. She had lost count along with her inhibitions at around about five. They had finally succumbed to exhaustion, he still deep inside her at about 3.30 this morning. A quick glance at her alarm told her it was now mid morning, closely followed by the realisation that the combined residue from their nightly activities was slowly leaking from her body and making a sticky trail down her inner thighs, and she grimaced. Shower now, panic later. With a bit of luck he'd be gone by the time she finished and she could recriminate with herself in private.

Somewhere in her head a faint voice was calling out to her that since she had already accepted this was going to happen her current reaction was somewhat excessive, but for some reason this morning a freakish virginal fear of the male sex had taken hold of her mind and she was fermenting a healthy dose of hysteria as she backed away from the bed.

She refused to admit how sexy he looked asleep in her bed, his face mashed into her pillow, his body (which was thankfully covered from the waist downwards by a quilt, for she secretly thought if she had seen his naked bum, she may never have actually made it to the shower) spread eagled across her bed taking up nearly every available inch of the mattress.

Once she reached the relative safety of the bathroom and closed the door, she fell back against the wood almost hyperventilating. Away from the temptation of his presence she could finally begin to process what she - they - had done. Oh God, she had really slept with Draco Malfoy, although she secretly admitted there hadn't been much actual sleeping involved at first! But eventually they had slept. Together. In her bed. And he was still there! In her bed. And she was hiding in the bathroom, with no idea what to do next.

What was the etiquette for having sex (copious amounts of hot, sweaty, fantastic sex) with someone you had hated for six years but recently found yourself lusting after like a Veela in heat, and still finding him there in the morning? She hadn't expected that; in all the scenarios which had played out in her head since her acceptance of the inevitability of this happening, she had never once pictured him still there the next day.

Actually, she had barely allowed her imaginings to even approach The Event; her inexperience had stumbled up against the physical aspect of her decision and even though her brain was clear on the mechanics of it she had found herself unable to envisage what would happen during her - deflowering, for want of a better term - much less comprehend that it would inevitably be followed by a Morning After!

Good Grief, Hermione had never had any type of sex with anyone before - good, bad or indifferent, so she supposed that no matter who she had awoken next to this morning, it would have been awkward, but at least with anyone else she would have imagined that there had been some prior relationship and an emotional build-up to this event and that was how they had ended up in such a position. Even now, she couldn't for the life of her imagine what had made Draco Malfoy decide recently that he wanted to have sex with her; along with her own inexplicable attraction to him, the fact that he seemed to return it was another thing which had driven her mad with indecision over the past two months.

Yet he had - she had - for hours and hours, turning to each other again and again in the night, until they had both been too weak to move..... What was he doing still sprawled out across her bed looking gorgeous and tempting her to just crawl back under the covers when what she really needed to do was some serious panicking?

She forced herself to turn on the shower hoping that the force of the water would clear her head, which was currently insisting on replaying graphic images of the past night on the insides of her retinas. Erotic pictures of Draco resting between her legs, of his mouth on her breasts - all over her body, of him telling her to look as he slipped so easily inside her, making her watch where they were joined. But above all there was his voice, weaving an erotic spell around her, whispering in her ear, telling her every single thing he wanted to do to her and then describing how it felt when he achieved it.

The whole night had shocked her to the core of her being; she had never imagined that people could do things like that to each other in the cover of darkness, and then get up and walk around the next day unmarked, with no outward sign to scream to the world what they had done. Oh, there were marks on her, to be sure. Light bruises from the tightness of his fingers as he came deep inside her body, faint teeth marks on her breasts and shoulders, but otherwise no indication of the monumental change she had undergone last night.

She studied herself as the water ran behind her, but the bathroom mirror showed her the same Hermione who had greeted her yesterday morning. A little more flushed and with worse bed-head, true; but Hermione thought something should look different - as if she ought to be able to tell that the world had shifted on its axis and nothing was familiar any more. But if she had surprised herself with the loss of her own inhibitions in the grip of passion, then Draco had been a revelation. There was nothing of the obnoxious little boy they had met on the train six years ago in the man she had seen last night.

Where Hermione had lost the ability to string two words together and been reduced to incoherent babbling and whimpers, she had found that Draco's normally sarcastic and offensive tongue had previously undisclosed skills; his true vocal talent lay in the erotic and seductive whispers he feathered across her skin as he brought her again and again to higher levels of anticipation. She had never known it could be so arousing to listen to him describe in explicit detail exactly what he was going to do to every single inch of her body. The more she lost the ability to talk, the more creative his suggestions became, until all she could manage was to order him 'do it' and scream loudly enough to wake them in the Hufflepuff dormitories when he did.

She had to stop thinking about him. She had to; this was supposed to have gotten it out of her system, so she could go back to being Hermione Granger, student. Was she going to allow him to totally take over her thoughts just because he knew his way around the female body? She hit her head against the shower wall several times. One thing was blatantly clear, and that was that not a single word of his considerable reputation had been exaggerated. She had to stop thinking about him before she threw all good sense to the winds and went back out there and jumped him. If all other sensible arguments failed, she was definitely too sore to take him inside her again.

Standing up for so long had made her aware of the recently torn tissues inside her body, and although she could still hardly believe how careful he had been to make sure her first time was incredible (and it certainly was) there was no getting around the fact that she was unused to such activities, and she wondered vaguely if even the most experienced witches could spend almost six hours making love - Having sex, Hermione, don't pretty it up! she admonished herself - without feeling some kind of discomfort. Although the hot water felt good on her other aching muscles, the dull throb within her getting stronger, and she wasn't sure that it was terribly helpful to keep thinking about Draco's not inconsiderable bedroom skills.

Of all the incredibly dangerous and stupid things she had done in the past six years this had to be right at the top of the list, so why did she want to do it again so badly? She had accepted that Draco Malfoy would be her first, but she had never expected that it would feel like this; that the connection she found with him would be so intense, so emotional - that it almost felt like something more than just sex. She was beginning to realise why House Elves hit their heads against the wall so often.

So intent was she on her self-flagellation that she didn't notice a cool draft of air as the bathroom door opened. Her first indication that she was no longer alone came when the husky voice she had been so recently fantasizing about asked right beside her, 'Is there room in there for one more?'

Hermione let out a high squeak of shock and spun around to find Draco leaning against the shower stall, arms crossed over his chest and quite totally stark naked. He was smirking, but the sight of her breasts bouncing as she jumped wiped the grin right off his face, to be replaced by a predatory look that she was already beginning to recognise. His eyes darkened, and Hermione couldn't help letting her eyes drop below his crossed arms to find him already erect and growing even harder if possible, as his attention focused on her nipples.

Her examination didn't last long; her eyes on him almost felt like an actual caress and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the small space by his presence. She tried to gasp in a breath and the movement of her chest caused him to growl and then he was through the cascading water and had her pressed back against the shower wall, held there by his body. One hand burrowed through the weight of her wet hair to the nape of her neck, holding her still so that he could take her mouth with his own once more.

She didn't wait for him to take the lead this time, her own tongue pushing past his teeth to play with his. She tilted her head until they achieved the perfect angle to fully possess each other's mouths. She could feel the friction of his lightly scattered golden hair rubbing against her insanely sensitive nipples and she moved to straddle his thigh, needing to relieve the ache between her legs even though the movement was pleasure bordering on pain.

He kissed her until she felt that she would melt into a puddle and wash away down the drain with the shower water, and when she was utterly limp and boneless in his arms, he withdrew panting heavily as he reached behind him to find the soap. 'Here,' he whispered, holding it out to her, 'You're ahead of me.'

Hermione quivered under the intensity of his hot gaze as she accepted the bar of soap and speculated on the freedom he had just given her to explore every inch of him, inhibitions rapidly vanishing she intended to take full advantage of it. Analysis of the rights and wrongs of this could wait until there was no naked Slytherin to distract her. She licked her red swollen lips as she tried to decide where to start, and Draco wondered briefly if being bathed by the Head Girl would be the thing which finally broke him.

She started, her hands slippery and hesitant at his shoulders, more caressing than cleansing as they flowed over his chest and stomach, then turning him away from her to smooth over his back, and finally down to his buttocks; that behind which so fascinated the female population of Hogwarts, and she had her hands on it. She, Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Head Girl had her hands on Draco Malfoy's perfect arse; growing more adventurous, she squeezed and caressed making him moan.

'Fuck, Granger, stop bloody teasing me. You know where it's stickiest.' He pulled her wrist dragging one of her hands round his body, bringing her flush against his back until he could feel her nipples poking into his skin, and leading her hand to his bursting penis. They let out simultaneous groans as her soapy fingers closed around his erection, and began sliding along his length copying their actions of the previous evening.

Draco immediately began praising her, encouraging her tentative caresses. 'Oh, Granger, that's so good. Hold me tighter. He won't break!' He was thrusting into her palm now, and she was sure he had grown even harder. 'Give me your other hand,' he groaned, and she obeyed, skimming her fingertips over his hip bones as she moved her hand around to his, he guided her down to his testicles and she cupped him in her palm, tickling her fingers through the rough curls at the base of his cock. His sac felt tight and swollen, and it took only moments before he caught her hand and held her still. 'Oh, shit, Merlin! You need to stop Granger. I'm too close. I won't be able to hold it.'

Hermione flushed and stilled her movements . Truth be told, she was as aroused as Draco, just from playing with him but some sensible corner of her mind -Oh, where were you last night when I let this get started - currently unfogged by lust reminded her that it was too soon for her to take him inside again and that she probably should slow down before she got to the point where she didn't care anymore, and ended up begging for him to take her again. And again. And again.

Draco turned to face her and with an intuition she would have barely believed him incapable of just 24 hours ago, he asked her, 'Are you sore?' She flushed scarlet, unused to being so open about such things. She had never even gossiped with Lavender and Parvati about sex during the six years they had shared a dorm, although she had heard plenty when she was trying to sleep and they had been whispering together. To suddenly be having her first real discussion about sex with Draco Malfoy was surreal.

'Unh -' was all Hermione could manage through her embarrassment, accompanied by a quick nod. She was distracted by his erection thrusting up between them so dark and swollen in contrast to the fairness of the rest of his skin. It seemed to be reaching out to her and she wanted to make it happy.

'Well, I'll just have to kiss it better then,' Draco murmured slyly and waited for her lust fogged brain to process his words.

'Uh - what?' she stammered, inarticulate, and he grinned a thoroughly satisfied smirk that made her legs quake. When he was sure he had her full attention, he slowly dropped to his knees in front of her and pushed her hips back to rest against the slick tiles of the shower. 'Ah, Draco!' She gasped out as his mouth traveled over her rounded tummy and down towards the source of her aching.

'Present,' he murmured, his breath stirring her curls.

' - What - Oh - what are you doing?' Her voice raised rapidly to a squeak and she gasped out the last word as his hands slowly slid up the inside of her thighs, gently but firmly pushing her legs apart.

Poised between her thighs, Draco looked up and gave her a truly Slytherin Glare. 'I'm transfiguring a flobberworm, Granger,' he said sarcastically, 'What does it look like?' and then his fingertips brushed along the swollen tissues around her entrance, barely touching her but leaving a yearning ache in their wake.

'But - but, it's daylight,' she whimpered as he lowered his chin to look upwards at her through the curtain of his ridiculously long eyelashes, and gave her the most wicked look in his extensive repertoire.

'It is,' he agreed silkily, 'and all the better to see you with, Miss Granger!' He slowly stuck his tongue out at her and took an exploratory taste, starting at her weeping center and finishing up by swirling his tongue tortuously lightly around her aching clit and finally gently sucking the swollen bundle of nerves completely into his mouth until her legs began to quiver and helpless moans escaped her mouth.

Showing what he thought was quite remarkable restraint, Draco drew back from her and her hips instinctively tried to follow, her whimpers protesting the loss of his mouth despite her initial embarrassment. He was so ready that he was leaking a steady stream of pre-cum into the cascading hot water, but the shower was spoiling his fun. All he could smell was the fruity essence of the soap. 'We have to get out of here,' he whispered to her, pulling himself to a standing position. 'I want to taste you; I want to get high on your scent, and all I can smell is this damned soap - come on!' He half carried, half dragged the limp Head Girl out of the shower murmuring a drying charm over them both as he guided them back towards her bed.

They didn't make it. Hermione, limp and uncoordinated from arousal, caught her foot under the edge of the thick bedroom carpet as they passed through the door and staggered bringing him down with her. They sprawled onto the floor, Draco landing with his face between her breasts, his hips cradled between her outspread legs. He thought, 'What the fuck - bed's too far away anyhow,' and began making his way downwards, trailing kisses over her navel and around the edge of her brown curls until he arrived at his feast, taking a deep appreciative breath which sent shivers of pleasure though her whole body. 'That's better,' he breathed. 'Merlin, you smell fantastic, Mina!'

Hermione was already shaking in anticipation of his repeating what he had done to her in the shower, and she wasn't disappointed; but this time there was no teasing or gentle exploration. Draco dived straight in, feasting on her own weeping arousal, licking her from top to bottom and curling his tongue up inside her aching passage as far as he could penetrate. Within seconds Hermione was in a writhing state of ecstasy, capable of little more than sobbing his name out, and he had to hold her hips still to prevent her from crushing his ears in her abandon.

And then he stopped. Without warning. Simply withdrew, leaving her shaking and so close to coming that it actually hurt to move. Draco wasn't sure himself where he had found the control to stop either, but he just wanted to look at her in the revealing daylight, to see her wild with passion; he drank in the sight of her swollen pink flesh, wet and glistening from a combination of her own arousal and his saliva, and he decided he could stay there watching her come apart in his arms for ever. Slyly, he blew a slow rush of air across her aching folds and it was too much for her insanely sensitive clit; spasms began deep in her womb and spread outwards to every extremity of her body. Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out, and Draco, realizing he had misjudged how close he could push her, swooped back down to her pussy drinking down all he could of her climax and trying to extend it as long as possible.

She went limp against him all of a sudden and he realised she had come so hard she had momentarily passed out. He lay panting, his head resting against her right thigh, trying to hold on to his own orgasm until she revived and could share it with him, but the friction of the rough carpet against his aching cock threatened an inglorious ending for him if he so much as twitched a muscle. Don't move, don't move, he chanted in his head until he felt the uneven fluttering of her breath against his hair and one of her hands lifted limply from the carpet and caressed the back of his neck.

'Draco,' she sighed his name, 'I - that was -'

'I know,' he agreed smugly, disengaging her hand from his hair and drawing it down to where he ached the most. She closed her fingers around him and sighed, caressing him and learning the texture of his skin as she turned on her side to find a better position. Draco laid back and closed his eyes, concentrating on the exquisite sensation of her touch, struggling to contain his climax so as to enjoy this as long as humanly possible.

He was shocked when a sudden shift in the air over his body and her withdrawal from his side made his eyes fly open to find her straddling him, guiding him inside his most favourite place in the whole world. 'Mina, don't -' he began and when her face froze in shame and embarrassment, he realized how wrong that sounded. 'You don't need to, you're hurting,' he raced on trying to explain himself before shock could turn into offense. 'Just stroke me. I love to feel your hands on my cock. I don't want to hurt you more - Oh! -'

Hermione smiled a sly secret little smile and sank tortuously slowly down onto his erection, until he was finally lost for words. 'Oh, Mina - Oh, shit. I'm not going to last - Oh, God, so close - I - Ah -' he was babbling, head tossing on the floor and Hermione felt insanely pleased with herself to realise that she could do this to Draco Malfoy. She skimmed over his nipples with the tips of her fingers and experimentally tightened her vaginal muscles around his swollen length. He roared and his hips thrust involuntarily up from the floor dislodging her from her squatting position; she fell forwards forcing his penis even deeper into her body, hitting a spot so insanely sensitive that she instantly and uncontrollably tipped in to another climax, and this time nothing could contain Draco's release. His orgasm was so intense he could actually feel the progress of his come as it exploded from his balls and surged the length of his penis before erupting into her throbbing body like a volcano. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and he thought his brain might possibly have exploded and was even now leaking out of his ears. It certainly felt like it had.

They lay boneless on the floor, panting, until Hermione finally managed to mumble, 'Need another shower now,' before she drifted back into unconsciousness, her head nestled in the curve of his shoulder, her left arm and leg sprawled possessively across his body. Draco lay there holding her until the hardness of the floor began to make his back ache, and then he uncurled from her, picking her up and carrying her back to lie in her bed.

He really, really wanted to join her and spend the whole day naked with her, but common sense prevailed. He was awake, and she wasn't, and it would look bad - if not downright suspicious if both the Head Boy and Girl missed two consecutive meals. Breakfast was lost to them since it was now nearly noon, so he decided he would exercise some damage control and attend lunch in the Great Hall.

He was amazed at himself that he could ever have thought having Hermione Granger once would be enough for him. Last night had proved that beyond all shadow of a doubt. But in the morning light he found himself unwilling to share this with anyone. It was not that he was ashamed of what had happened - although that might have been true last year - or that he was worried about anyone else's reaction. No one was in a position to censure him now anyway. No, this was more in the nature of a possessive secrecy. He wanted Granger all to himself. He was not prepared to share this with anyone at all; it was too private, and truthfully, too important to be brought out in the open for speculation by all and sundry, and he realized that was an indication of just how deeply he was into this, and the bigger miracle was that he didn't even care.

He dressed, smiling smugly as he pulled an old pair of black jeans softened by numerous washings, over his own sensitive parts. Hermione might be sore from the loss of her virginity, but even Draco who had been no virgin for several years now, was unused to having this much sex in one day. In fact, he wouldn't have believed himself capable of sustaining so many consecutive erections without the aid of an engorging charm if he hadn't the proof before him.

In all, he couldn't ever remember being in a better mood as he entered the Great Hall. Well, maybe in 5th year when Potter got kicked off the Quidditch team - no, actually - not even then! Nothing was going to bring him down today!

He was shortly to find out he was wrong.


	30. Chapter 30

Draco very rarely emerged in the halls of Hogwarts without his school robes, or more traditional formal robes. It was a habit ingrained in him by generations of Malfoy family tradition, which most of the other students didn't adhere to on weekends, preferring the more casual Muggle style of dress when uniform was optional. It never occurred to him that his appearance in the Great Hall today for lunch, dressed only in well-worn casual jeans and a dark green sweater would cause the uproar that it did. He had simply been aiming for comfort against his abraded flesh.

He hardly noticed the silence as he walked up to the Slytherin table. He was still thinking about the look of shock on Hermione's face as she had her first orgasm of the night. He sat down beside Greg Goyle, and began piling food onto his plate. He was suddenly starving and allowed himself a secretive smirk whilst reflecting on just exactly why he was so hungry.

Perhaps he should take a plate back up for Hermione, he thought. She would certainly need her strength for what he had in mind for tonight. He was happily planning the next things he was going to teach her when he became aware of how quiet it was along the length of the Slytherin table. He finally narrowed his eyes, and stared down at his housemates.

Conversation was flowing freely at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, so this was something specific to his House. Everyone from 4th year upwards was staring at him, and the lower years were staring at their plates, far too intimidated to break the unnatural silence.

'What's the matter with everyone?' he asked impatiently. 'Did somebody die?' There was an immediate rush of denial; conversation started feverishly all along the table as he glowered down at them. He looked at Greg and raised an eyebrow, but Greg just shook his head and began shoveling food into his mouth. Further down the table a very red puffy-faced Mary Beene glared at him then presented her back.

Draco had no interest today in petty Slytherin politics. Even this obscure behaviour could barely dent his euphoria. He finished his lunch and charmed a paper bag to contain some bread rolls and fruit for Hermione, then got up and left the other Slytherins to their whispering, eager to get back to his rooms and his lover.

Unfortunately, he was stopped outside the doors by Nicholas Bartlett, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, who wanted to go over the training schedule, as he seemed to think they had both booked the field for the same two hour period on Tuesday evening. Draco was tempted to tell Nick he could have it for the rest of the term if he wanted, along with the Quidditch championship and the House Cup, if he would just get out of the way and let me get back to Hermione! But some vestige of common sense prevailed. It was still important to beat Gryffindor for the Cup this year, and not everyone on the team had a gorgeous, sexy, passionate, naked witch, who was rapidly becoming more important than a flying game, waiting in her room for him. And the six other team members aside, there was a whole houseful of Slytherins desperate to beat Gryffindor at something who would be a whole lot less than impressed when their Captain tried to explain that they lost the Cup again because he couldn't wait to get back in bed with the Gryffindor Head Girl. Yeah, right!

Therefore, they spent a frustrating forty minutes searching for Madam Hooch who maintained the schedule and then had to negotiate an alternate time spot. By the time Draco could return to the Head student suite, nearly two hours had passed and his worst fears were realized. Hermione had gone, although her door didn't refuse him entry. Apparently he had sufficiently bypassed the wards placed on it the night before, and now he had free access to her room.

She was not there and the room smelt of fresh flowers; a cleaning charm he recognized from 4th year. He swore viciously and kicked a small table. He should have left a note telling her he was going to lunch; she probably thought he'd dumped her now that he'd had her. In fact, he never should have left the room in the first place. He could have had the House Elves bring lunch up to them there, although remembering her short-lived S.P.E.W campaign in 4th year, that might not have been any wiser than the choice he had made. Now he had given her time to build her prickly Gryffindor defenses back up and he would have to break though them all over again.

She was no doubt hiding back in the Gryffindor Tower once more, and although as Head Boy he knew the passwords to all the Houses, even he wasn't brave enough to show his face in the Lions' Den looking for their previously virgin princess. He tried to remember if the comedy double act had been at lunch today, but he had hardly even looked at their table. He knew exactly where his own Gryffindor was, and she was the only one he had any interest in.

After spending a frustrating hour pacing their study waiting for Hermione to return, he finally accepted that he would never be able to settle down, and that she was going to make him suffer for as long as possible; he decided to visit his own House, maybe discover what all that peculiar behaviour at lunch was about.

He passed through the portrait of Salazar Slytherin which was his entry to his own House and experienced the brief rush of spatial displacement which occurred to minimize the actual distance between the suite of rooms reserved for the Head Students and their respective Houses. He assumed that Hermione's passageway to the Gryffindor Tower worked similarly.

The first time he had entered Slytherin House this way, the sensation had felt like a milder version of a portkey, but he soon became accustomed to traveling thus and appreciated that he didn't have to undertake a fifteen minute walk to reach the dungeons, which was the alternative.

The Common Room was busy after the Hogsmeade visit yesterday, and all heads turned to the corresponding portrait of Salazar as it swung open into the room. The only person who could enter from there was the Head Boy, so they had no doubt who was emerging. As he stepped into the room, there was a brief moment of silence and then the boys from the older years erupted into a catcall of cheers and whistles, yelling compliments and praises at him. Draco couldn't prevent the brief expression of confusion which crossed his face before he schooled his features into a cold disdainful sneer more suitable for a Malfoy.

This kind of reaction was more usually reserved for a particularly spectacular Quidditch win, one where Gryffindor - and most especially Potter - had been massively humiliated, and Draco could count on the thumbs of one hand just how many times that had happened. He couldn't for the life of him imagine what he had done to justify such adulation at this moment in time, but he was certainly distracted from his brooding about the Head Girl.

Briefly. Until the occasion was clarified.

As befitting their position as his special entourage, Crabbe and Goyle were the first to invade his personal space. Greg thumped him on the shoulder and winked unnervingly at him. Vince grabbed his hand with both of his own meaty ones and shook it so violently that Draco feared all the bones in his fingers would be crushed. 'Amazing, Draco,' he enthused. 'That was unbelievable!'

Draco was even more confused, but it would never do to admit it in his position. At the moment he seemed to have attained some kind of God-like status to his House, but he knew that could all change in the wink of an eye; they were like a pack of wolves waiting for the first sign of weakness. So he played up his role as if he knew exactly what he had done to deserve it. Vince and Greg dragged him over to sit in one of the black leather sofas by the fireplace, obviously hoping he would share some of the details, and he knew he would have to be very careful to draw out of them what they did know without revealing what he didn't.

Vince was still gushing happily about how amazing it was, and how everyone had been up half the night, so Draco sat covertly studying the rest of the students in the common room whilst pretending to bask in his friend's praises.

It didn't take him long to work out that it was mostly the boys who were enraptured with him today. With few exceptions, the Slytherin girls were huddled in corners whispering and avoiding looking at him. Krista Reid, however, was staring right at him and if looks could have cast the Avada he would have been long gone by now.

His furtive gaze finally caught Blaise's eye, and the other boy mouthed two words to him which brought instant clarity to the situation. 'Pansy's Volcano,' and Draco realized with a kind of fascinated horror that she must have reactivated the stupid alarm after he left her room that night.

He was thankful for his years of conditioning under Lucius that enabled him not to react with the shock and panic which was running unchecked through his system. How could he have been so stupid as to blow off dealing with her stupid alert? Well, actually he knew perfectly well why. Because he couldn't think about anything else but Granger. She had taken over his common sense along with his head and his heart and certain other parts of his anatomy.

He thought furiously as Greg and Vince rambled on about how everyone admired him and how they had always known he was the stud of Hogwarts...

'What?' he hissed as that last phrase penetrated his whirring thoughts. 'What did you just call me?'

Vince swallowed, thrown by the venom in Draco's voice. 'I - ah..It's just that we're all - you know - in awe - y'know. Of your - um...stamina?

Draco wondered if it could possibly get any worse, but immediately realised that if they ever found out who he had been with, then worse wouldn't even be on the same planet as where they were now. Putting aside any thoughts he may have had earlier this morning, about not being ashamed of Hermione, he realised that even were he willing to admit openly to being with her, there was no worse possible way of announcing it than as a result of Pansy's erupting fidelity hex, and he refused to do that to her - to them.

He realized then that there was no sign of Pansy in the Common Room, and he wondered if she was dealing with this by sobbing in her dormitory or plotting in her dormitory. He had been incredibly stupid - yes, he would admit it but only to himself. He, Draco Malfoy, had fucked up big time - and he could only wonder what other insanities he might commit whilst in the grip of his insane obsession with the Head Girl. He only just realized quite how completely she had taken over his every thought; and now that he had the reality to draw upon rather than his fevered imaginings, how much worse his distraction might become.

Thank Merlin most of the people in Slytherin were far too inbred to conceive that he might have stepped outside their own closely guarded purebred clique, a fact which would provide a measure of security for his secret. In fact, he couldn't have seen himself getting involved with a Muggle-born last term. Perhaps that actually meant he was growing up and becoming more mature than his classmates.

He pondered that thought and also the word - involved- was that what he was? Was he involved with Hermione Granger? His mind replayed a sudden image of her as she had been this morning, straddling him on her bedroom floor, her wild hair flying as she rode him slowly trying to find a rhythm which caused the least friction in one area whilst also making the most in another, and himself shaking beneath her wondering if he should stop her, more concerned for her discomfort than his own imminent climax. Fuck, yes, he was involved, right up to his eyeballs and sinking deeper by the minute. And he loved it!

Draco looked around and found Blaise again. He was staring directly at Draco as if awaiting instructions. After checking that no one was watching, he mouthed Prefect Office? and at Draco's nod extricated himself smoothly from the group of 6th & 7th years he was talking to and left the Common Room unremarked.

Draco forced himself to stay still for another fifteen minutes before following. No one had dared to ask him who he had spent the night with; but oddly enough Greg put out a hand and delayed him as he stood up. 'Draco,' he muttered, seemingly embarrassed by what he was about to say, 'Kidding aside, you know - if you really like this girl, we -' he nodded vaguely between Vince and himself, 'think you should go for it. Pansy's stuff is just that after all - smoke and hot air. She'd never make you happy really.' Vince nodded vigorously to emphasize his agreement, and Draco was touched.

'That's strangely mature of you guys,' he said. 'If I make a decision, I'll let you know.'

Greg grinned and then winked. 'Not promising we won't keep teasing you about it though,' he deadpanned, then he and Vince fell about laughing hysterically and Draco rolled his eyes as he marched out of the common room to another rowdy accompaniment of cat calls and whistles.

This time, it was Blaise who was waiting for him in the Prefects Office, lounged in one of the armchairs. Draco let the door swing shut behind him and warded them in. 'Ok,' he sighed, dropping down into a chair opposite Blaise. 'You'd better tell me just how bad it actually was.'

Blaise grinned. He couldn't help it; he hadn't had this much fun in ages. 'Well,' he began. 'You do remember that I mostly shagged the information out of Pansy, don't you?'

Draco shrugged and shook his head as if to dismiss any interest in the means, but it was amusing to see that whilst Pansy had expectations of his fidelity, it was obviously a one way street for her. Blaise apparently had no illusions either; and despite his own personal distaste for entering into a relationship with Pansy, Draco could admit that she had certain bedroom skills. Had he not in fact been about to sample them when this whole situation blew up in his face?

She certainly had enough practice; her head count was far higher than his own. Despite his reputation, Draco had not slept with as many girls as popular rumour reported. His father, bless his evil imprisoned black heart, had bought Draco a courtesan for his 14th birthday, and during a very informative weekend he had learnt some very useful and explicit lessons on the female anatomy from her. Any reputation he had gained had been based upon quality not quantity, and was mostly creditable to Penelope's patience and enthusiasm for her young student.

Aside from his casual fling with Isabel last year, there hadn't been a sustained relationship with any witch; there had been four less-than-memorable nights spent with Pansy - before she created her reputation by sleeping with almost all the Slytherin boys above 4th year - during the Umbridge year when he had been going through his reckless, arrogant phase (although many would say that phase had lasted for the past 18 years, and was more in the way of a character flaw than a phase). The oft reported and hypothetical loss of his virginity to Clarissa Mead - which had occurred some four months after the actual event - coupled with mostly single encounters brought about typically by witches throwing themselves at him, comprised the actual extent of his experience.

'Well,' Blaise continued, 'She does have certain - shall we say - skills, so I thought I might enjoy them until the newness wears off. Therefore, as a result I have to admit I was fortunate enough to be party to the whole episode, and what a show!'

Draco actually managed to smile at that and Blaise continued. Apparently, Pansy was inclined to kick her room mates out of the dormitory when entertaining, so Millicent and Mary were dozing on a sofa in the Common Room whilst Blaise was bringing her off in their room. Blaise said that he usually left before midnight as he felt guilty for making the other girls sleep downstairs. Pansy had been dozing like the princess she pretended to be as Blaise was pulling on his trousers, when there was a sudden popping sound. He looked around startled, and Pansy rolled over still half-way between sleep and wakefulness, complaining about him disturbing her.

He had cast a lumos spell at the end of his wand and searched the room for whatever caused the noise, which was getting more frequent, the popping sounds coming closer together. Finally tracing the sound to its source, his eyes lit on the model on Pansy's dresser, and he could feel himself going into shock. Puffs of smoke were spurting from the top of the volcano, each one emerging with the small popping sound which had alerted him.

Blaise stared at the volcano. He expected that Draco would have disarmed it when he allowed Pansy to bring him to her room after their Quidditch victory; it had been shock to find it still in pride 0f place on her dresser when he had again brought Pansy up here last Wednesday night. He had tried to ask Draco just yesterday morning as they set off for Hogsmeade if he had left it there deliberately so that Pansy would think it was still active. He had certainly never for a single moment considered that he would see it working. He had simply assumed that it had been taken care of, but it seemed that was not the case.

Smoke was beginning to flow from the top now to accompany the popping noises; a thick purple smoke which had started as a trickle but was now rapidly filling the room. Blaise was momentarily fascinated at this vindication of Pansy's skills with charms, but as the surrounding fog became denser and thicker, he began to wonder if there were any toxic effects from the smoke. He had enquired as to the effects on Draco, but had not thought to ask if there were any repercussions on any spectator should the alarm activate.

Of course, at the time he hadn't anticipated being said spectator. He hopped back over to the bed trying to zip his trousers and push his arms into his shirt sleeves as he moved. 'Pansy,' he hissed. 'Parkinson, wake up!' He shook her shoulder and she grunted irritably. 'Pansy, look,' he yelled and she finally stirred herself. Blaise was momentarily distracted from his concern of asphyxiation by the look on her face as she processed the meaning of all the smoke billowing around her room.

Pansy's expression started as excitement that her hex was working, but as the veils of sleep receded from her mind, realisation of what must be happening for her to be seeing this evidence of her skills began to creep across her features. She swore loudly and colorfully, throwing her pillows across the room, and burst into tears.

'Pansy,' Blaise snapped, 'Is the smoke dangerous? Look how thick it's getting!' And indeed it was. They could barely see as far as the dresser upon which the model stood by now. Pansy was almost hysterical, and for the sake of coherence, Blaise slapped her briskly across her cheek. 'Pansy, get a grip and talk to me. Is the smoke dangerous to breathe?'

Pansy finally took in several gasping breaths and managed to shake her head though her sobs. 'No, it's just dry ice and water,' she confessed. Blaise relaxed somewhat, but Pansy was still sobbing and hiccupping. He went over and opened the window to allow the purple haze to dissipate. Pansy had other things on her mind. She was staring fixedly at her alarm which was still belching smoke into the room, and said in a small voice, more to herself than Blaise, 'He must be fucking her brains out.'

'You mean it doesn't stop smoking until he stops - smoking?' He asked tactlessly, which brought on another bout of sobs. 'I'm impressed, Pans. That's quite a complex charm.' They both looked back at the volcano which was still popping loudly and blowing even more smoke into the room, and Blaise realized how painful it must be for Pansy although he was really highly entertained. 'Buck up, Pans,' he said bracingly. 'At least the waiting is over now. You know he's done it and you can start to move on.'

'Yes, move on to finding out who she is and hexing her off the face of the planet,' Pansy spat leaping out of bed which made her naked parts jiggle around most distractingly and Blaise ogled her chest with typical male teenage lust, before her words registered.

'Now, Pansy,' he began soothingly. 'I don't think that's the best idea you ever had -' but they were both suddenly startled when the volcano actually erupted, lighting the room into every corner through the haze of smoke and raining gold and purple sparkles in a cascading fountain which winked out into nothingness as they landed on any hard surface. 'Wow,' Blaise breathed, 'does that mean -?' Luckily he never finished that thought, for Pansy's dormitory door suddenly burst open and Millicent and Mary stood on the threshold looking frantic.

'Pansy, are you okay - we saw smoke coming out from under the door, and there were all these weird noises -' Mary began, but Millie was transfixed by the erupting volcano.

'Oh, Merlin's beard,' she whispered, 'Is that it, Pansy? Did you know it would do that?'

Encouraged by the through draft from the open window, purple smoke was billowing down the stairs, and roused by the banging and shouting and running feet, sleepy Slytherins were opening their dormitory doors to find out what the commotion was all about.

The crowd around the 7th year girls dormitory was growing and Millie was screaming at everyone to go away, whilst Pansy kept muttering 'I'm going to kill her, I'm going to kill her,' until Mary tactlessly finished the thought Blaise had started earlier.

'Why is it doing that, Pans? Wow, it's so pretty! Does that mean he's cumming?'

Pansy howled, and with a decisive pounce, she grabbed up her wand of the bedside table, and uncaring of her nakedness began flinging random hexes at everyone standing in her bedroom doorway. Most missed entirely, bouncing off the walls and floor; her overwrought emotional state did not allow for effective spell casting, but a stray boil erupting curse struck Mary, who promptly burst into tears and fled howling accompanied by Millie, and Roger Dent, a skinny 6th year was last seen crawling towards the boys wing under the influence of a jelly legs curse. Pansy was finally alone, Blaise having sensibly made good his escape in the confusion.

However, it appeared that the worse was not yet over, for the smoking volcano had apparently resisted all Pansy's attempts to destroy it, and had continued to spew smoke into her room until she reached the verge of suffocation and when she was forced to open the door, into all of the Slytherin dungeons. It had also continued to erupt in showers of purple and gold sparkles at certain points, which the Slytherins quickly decided coincided with Draco's orgasms. Hence the cheers and comments about his stamina this morning.

When the volcano had finally calmed in the early hours of Sunday morning, the Slytherins had stayed awake to watch it for another hour or so, before regretfully accepting that their idol had probably fallen asleep after his considerable exertions with the lucky witch.

But the final revelation had occurred at about 10.30 this morning, when the volcano had erupted one last time and with such force that the model itself had actually exploded into dozens of small sharp pieces, sending Pansy shrieking from her room, unable to conceal this latest episode and followed by a torrent of sparks which actually caught fire to one of her bed curtains. Blaise had to race and extinguish them with a soaking spell. Pansy had been locked in the girls bathroom ever since and only Millie had been able to go inside and talk to her.

Blaise finally completed his narrative and risked a glance at Draco, who seemed pensive but not unduly annoyed. He realized that Blaise was studying him carefully and gave the other boy a rueful smile. 'Not your fault,' he said. 'I must be really slipping. I would never have overlooked destroying that stupid alarm while Lucius was around.'

'Well, it's gone now,' Blaise agreed philosophically. 'Not before the damage was done admittedly, and she is on the warpath now. Kind of unfair really, when you consider she was shagging me when it went off!'

Draco snorted, the irony not lost on him. 'I was never under any delusions that Pansy loved me as much as my money!' he said.

'What about her?' Blaise asked, wondering out loud how far Draco's new bonhomie could be pushed. 'Does she love you for yourself?'

Obviously not that far. Draco's face closed off like a black thundercloud. 'That is none of your business, and extends outside of the scope of our arrangement,' he snapped. Hmm, interesting. Seemed the new lady was a very sensitive subject with the Head Boy; apparently Blaise's earlier suspicions about Draco's affections finally being taken were closer to the truth than he had known at the time. He wondered why Draco was being so secretive; most girls would be more than happy for the whole world to know that they had the interest of the Malfoy heir, so it certainly couldn't be someone from Slytherin - besides, no one had been conspicuously missing last night. Must be a student for they had established the scope of the alarm was only with the school walls. Unless Draco had smuggled someone inside the grounds and Blaise dismissed that idea immediately.

Who would Draco want to keep a secret from his house? With his father incarcerated, he was answerable to no one, so there was no reason for caution unless the girl was beyond unsuitable and moving into the realms of dangerous. Draco had taken witches from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff in the past, and Blaise suspected he had even dipped his toes into the Gryffindor pool in 6th year with that Brown girl; she had certainly thrown herself at him enough that even the strongest willed male would have given in. So who could be the most dangerous, the most unsuitable witch in the whole school for Draco to have been with?

Blaise studied Draco as he began emptying his pockets - presumably to find enough galleons to pay him off and ensure that their temporary business relationship was terminated immediately. His sharp analytical gaze was caught by the presence of a single brown wavy hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline of Draco's green sweater, and the most fantastic and farfetched idea occurred to him. So radical was this idea that he immediately rejected it as being beyond even his own fevered imagination to have conjured up. But it refused to leave him alone; he couldn't prevent his mind from trying to fit clues together and they all lead back to one girl. The most dangerous girl.

The Head Girl, in fact.

'Here you are,' Draco, finally satisfied that he had gathered adequate remuneration for Blaise, handed across a pile of galleons and held out his hand for a formal wizarding handshake to signify completion of the transaction.

Blaise accepted the money and the handshake, and turned to leave the Prefects Office, but decided at the last moment to take a chance on his theory. He put his hand upon the door knob and said, 'I know it's over, Draco, but just watch your back, OK? Pansy is unstable, and she doesn't play fair as you know from this whole alarm episode anyway.'

'Thank you, Blaise. I do appreciate your discretion so far in this matter, but the situation has changed, and that's my fault so it has to be up to me to deal with it now. I will be very careful around Pansy from here on.'

'Good,' Blaise said. The door was open, he had one foot out in the corridor. He dropped his revelation. 'And make sure to warn Granger to watch hers, too.' It was a mistake.

He hadn't known Draco could move that fast. Before he could even process what had happened, he was pressed back against the doorframe with Draco's forearm digging into his throat and cutting off his breath, and Draco's wand pressed between his eyes. Fuck! He hadn't even seen him move! Even if he didn't subscribe like many others to the belief that Crabbe and Goyle were Draco's muscle, he still had never suspected that Draco was so dangerous.

'What did you say?'

Draco hissed, and Blaise choked, unable to get any words out beyond the constriction of his throat; Draco eased his arm back fractionally to allow him enough breath to speak.'I just mean Pansy will be trying to fix whoever your new girl is. I know she's working on a Herbology project with Granger - she will probably try to use Granger to get to you. You do share quarters and all...' Draco backed off slightly, and pinned Blaise with a grim look.

'You don't believe that for a second, and neither do I,' he said abruptly, fully aware that her had given himself away with that reaction. 'But I'm impressed how fast you can think whilst being strangled and with a wand in your face. You're smart Blaise, and we both know that if one word of this leaks out, I shan't have to look far for the culprit, shall I? If I see you within a yard of the Head Girl, you'll be wishing for Azkaban. Are we clear on that?'

'As crystal, Draco,' Blaise soothed, and genuinely meant it. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't actually think of a better match for Draco than Hermione Granger. She was smart, loyal, loving, brave; she wasn't easily intimidated and had actually turned out to be quite the looker. Who would have thought? She was everything that Draco didn't realise he needed - or actually, given the events of last night, maybe he did. It was an intriguing situation. He might even help keep Pansy off Draco's back.


	31. Chapter 31

Hermione awoke for a second time that day at about 12.30, this time as alone as she hoped to be earlier, and had found it was not the relief she had expected. Instead she worried where he was and if he was even now broadcasting to the whole of Slytherin House that he had just deflowered the Head Girl.

She brooded for a while, but the inactivity was just making her fevered imaginings even worse, so she took another shower and tried not to look the study carpet in the eye. Now that she was free of his distracting presence, she had leisure to inspect her own behaviour the night before, and although she knew she should be absolutely ashamed of her wantoness, she found she just couldn't be.

And Draco Malfoy, the evil Slytherin git, had been beyond incredible; he had been so gentle and considerate of her inexperience, and any soreness she felt now was all of her own doing for pushing him into more adventurous and wilder passion than he had initially instigated. Oh, no doubt that he had reveled in her willingness to experiment, but now she was wondering if it might have been more sensible to wait until the third or fourth time?

She and Ron had been over for a month now, so she really had no reason for feeling guilty about what had happened. She was quite free to give herself to anyone she wished. Again. And again. And again...She couldn't help but wonder what Draco had to gain by lavishing such attention on her for the past twelve hours, and then dumping her. He had certainly been as aroused as she; there was no way a man could hide something like that. On the contrary, he had been determined to share every single nuance of his desire with her, demanding that she look and touch when she would have wavered. Could he really be capable of turning it off just like that?

Hermione decided that she was still too limp and languid to believe he had cut her off. She had to believe that he had left without waking her because he had other requirements on his time which he couldn't avoid. He was after all, as well as being Head Boy, also the Slytherin Quidditch Captain - an added responsibility which Hermione was very glad she didn't have given the weight of all her other duties and studying for her NEWTs.

Once she had made excuses for his absence, she finally allowed herself to wallow in vivid memories of the night before. She sank down on the side of her bed and looked at the tumbled covers and indulged herself in a recreation of how they had gotten that way. When she closed her eyes she could see Draco's head in between her legs as it had been earlier this morning, driving her out of her mind as he brought her to a kind of ecstasy she had never conceived of before.

She realised that she would have to get out of here or she would inevitably end up spending the rest of the day lounging around in a daydream about the Head Boy, a state of mind she had roundly criticized Lavender and Parvati for indulging in many times over the past three years. Oh, how are the mighty fallen! And over Draco Malfoy of all people! Also, her common sense prodded albeit a little late for effectiveness, it might pr0bably be prudent to be absent when he returned so as not to appear too needy or available.

After all, they may well have discovered a sudden and inexplicable sexual attraction to each other, but did they really like each other very much? Could you realistically discount six years of history because of one night of good sex (Okay, absolutely mind-blowing, earth moving sex) but still, there were standards to be maintained. She decided a strategic retreat was in order, and cast a cleansing spell over her room which left it smelling pleasantly of freesias.

Hermione dressed in a thick jumper and a long warm woolen skirt; she just felt too achy to manage jeans at the moment, and collecting up her books she fled to the Gryffindor common room. Of course, this was another decision that her Draco-befuddled brain had not thought through adequately before acting upon it.

Ginny and Harry pounced immediately, concerned that she had missed two meals, and began plying her for answers as soon as she emerged through the portrait of their founder. Hermione suddenly realised that she was absolutely ravenous. Apparently having loads of sex built up an appetite; trying desperately to contain her flush (and failing dismally), she admitted to a late night of studying and consequently oversleeping today. It was essentially the truth as long as no one asked for a subject (the male anatomy.) Harry swallowed it but Ginny gave her a calculating glance which she tried to ignore by going to the fireplace and flooing the kitchens to ask the house Elves for a snack.

Ron didn't seem to be around at first glance, for which Hermione was hugely grateful; she certainly hadn't been thinking about him when she fled to the Tower, but just looking at Ginny's thoughtful face made her feel guilty and she could only imagine how much worse it would be to have to look Ron in the eye and remember how she had just spent the night, even though she had almost convinced herself earlier that there was no reason for guilt.

She found it incredible that it had been so easy, so desirable even, to surrender to Draco who she still wasn't quite ready to admit she liked as a person, when any evidence of arousal on Ron, who she loved dearly, had made her feel uncomfortable and threatened.

She quickly ate the plate of food and settled herself at one of the tables using her books as a shield against prying housemates. She had learnt that most of her peers left her alone to her books, although the lower years would sometimes approach her to ask for advice or assistance. She considered it part of her Head Girl obligations to make herself available to the rest of the school, and was quite pleased that she had gained a reputation for being approachable and helpful towards the younger students. She could honestly say she didn't think any of the previous Head students had been as readily available to consult with as she endeavored to be.

Percy certainly hadn't been, although Ginny did admit he had conducted prefect meetings in the Head's Common Room - something which Malfoy had drawn the line at the first day of term. Initially, Hermione had thought it typical of him to want to keep the splendid rooms all to himself, but as the weeks wore on she began to see that having Pansy Parkinson given free access to the living area was definitely something to be discouraged and she thanked Malfoy for that at least, even though she felt bound by her own sense of honour not to invite her friends to the Common Room since he didn't overrun it with Slytherins.

Harry and Ron had only visited once in the first week of term, and had been suitably impressed with the size and luxury of the rooms, but any envy had been severely tempered by the knowledge of who occupied the matching room across the other side of the study. Hermione had therefore continued to spend most of her time in her old common room with her old friends, and she was glad that it had worked out this way, for she found she really enjoyed the contact with the younger Gryffindors, and the opportunity to smooth their daily lives somewhat.

A couple of the first years had been incredibly homesick at first, one of them a Muggle-born like herself and now she always felt a warm sense of achievement when she saw David enthusiastically engaged in some activity with a couple of his new friends, knowing that her presence had helped him to adjust.

She tried to concentrate on him now, as he sat in front of the fireplace playing Exploding Snap with AJ Rimmer, instead of thinking about Draco Malfoy and what had happened last night. As the afternoon wore on a couple of first and second year students came to ask her advice or just chat. David sat down beside her briefly after AJ had to leave and send an owl home. He told Hermione that he had been invited to AJ's house for the first week of the Christmas holiday and was very excited to see a real wizard's house, before he went home to Huddersfield to see his own family, and Hermione in an oddly emotional state, very nearly burst into tears thinking that she had a hand in developing his new confidence.

Harry and Ginny were playing a game of wizard chess nearby, and throughout the afternoon Ginny became increasingly perplexed by her friend's demeanor. She was unable to pinpoint exactly what she thought was wrong, but something was definitely off with Hermione today. She began to study the older girl sideways trying to decipher what was bothering her, and as a consequence Harry was able to trounce her thoroughly with his black pieces. When Hermione looked to be on the verge of tears at something David Lister said to her, Ginny stood up forcefully casting a warning glance at her boyfriend and went over to join Hermione at her table.

'Ron has gone out with Luna.' She announced baldly as she sat down opposite Hermione. 'She's fancied him for ages, but she never thought he would notice her with you around. When she heard you'd split up she asked me if I thought she had chance with him, and I told her to go for it.'

Hermione blinked, startled at this sudden seeming attack by Ginny. She was still in an odd emotional place after her conversation with David, and fighting off insidious thoughts about Malfoy that kept trying to sneak in to her head and take over whilst she was distracted. Ginny's sudden revisiting of the topic which was honestly furthest from her mind at the moment left her somewhat confused and foundering for an answer.

'Um, that's - nice for her?' She tried cautiously, not exactly sure what Ginny wanted from her. 'There's a lot more to Luna than it seems at first,' she added when Ginny seemed to expect something more.

'I think so.' Ginny stated, examining Hermione closely until she began to fidget in her chair. 'Come up to my room, I want to show you what I got Harry for Christmas.' Ginny commanded, sounding just like her mother, and Hermione had stood up before she even realised what she was doing.

'But -' she began confused, for she had been right there with Ginny yesterday in Hogsmeade when she bought the scrying stone.

'I put some decoration on it,' Ginny cut her off. Decoration? Hermione was horribly confused. How did you decorate a stone? A magical stone - surely that would render all it's magical properties useless? 'Come on. Harry can you wait for us before you go to dinner?' And she swept off, Hermione trailing behind her quite at a loss. Damn Malfoy anyway; he had quite obviously shagged her brain into mush.

Once they reached Ginny's dormitory, she shut the door behind them and cast locking and silencing spells on it. For the first time, Hermione began to feel nervous about her friend's behaviour. 'What's the matter, Gin?' she asked.

'I think I should be asking you that,' Ginny replied. 'I know there's something up. You're behaving very strangely and you have a weird look on your face.' They both looked at each other in consternation and began at the same time -

'It's not about Ron, is it -' then stared in amazement before breaking down into fits of giggles.

Ginny recovered first. 'Okay, not Ron then! I was worried that you would be upset about Luna even if it was your decision to cool things down.'

'Oh, no! I actually think Luna is exactly the kind of girl Ron needs. He would never be able to understand why I need my academics as much as I do. Luna is very smart under all that dreaminess. I think they'll bring out the best in each other. I was afraid you were still cross with me because I hurt him.' Hermione rushed to reassure.

Ginny sighed. 'I won't pretend that I wouldn't have loved for you to be together; you would always be my first choice for Ron. But as much as I wanted that, I know you don't feel about Ron like I do about Harry. You'd never have waited this long if you did.'

Although Ginny was really only reiterating what she had said the night after their break up, the words brought Hermione round again to the first night Draco had kissed her in the Quidditch stands, and what they had caught Harry and Ginny doing; which in turn led her back to her erotic memories of last night, and the images she had been repressing all day made another and far more successful attempt to escape into her conscious again. Her cheeks and certain other parts of her body began to tingle at her delicious thoughts.

'Mione - Hermione!' Ginny's voice penetrated her lust filled thoughts and shaking her head quickly to dispel the memory induced fog which was gripping her she looked guiltily at her friend. 'Well, at last!' Ginny snorted. 'Where did you go? You've been staring into space for a good five minutes!'

Hermione blushed violently, totally unable to control the heat in her cheeks this time. Had she really checked out so totally in her dreams about Draco that she hadn't heard Ginny talking to her? Oh God, what had he done to her? She was turning into Lavender!! She let out a groan and looked away.

Ginny kept staring, and her eyes suddenly widened in shock. 'Oh! My God, Hermione!'

'What?' Hermione asked nervously. 'What's the matter?'

'Oh my God, Hermione! You got laid last night, didn't you?' Ginny gasped out baldly.

'What - No! I - what?' Hermione stammered becoming more flushed and flustered by the moment.

'You did! I can tell,' Ginny crowed gleefully. 'Oh, God - it wasn't Ron after all, was it?' she asked worriedly clasping a hand to her heart and staring fixedly at the older girl.

'Stop it, Ginny. Of course I haven't slept with your brother. You said he's with Luna now. What do you take me for?' This was more comfortable - make the conversation about Ginny and not herself; attack being the best form of defense and all that rot.

It didn't work. 'So, if it wasn't Ron, who was it?' Ginny asked eagerly. 'And don't tell me no one. I can see it all over you, and besides you have a huge great hickey right there on your neck!'

'What!' Hermione squeaked, her hand automatically going to the spot beneath her ear which Draco had paid so much attention to last night after he realised that kissing her there made her whole body break out in goosebumps all over. She had been so sure there had been no marks in any visible places when she dressed earlier. Was there such a thing as a time-delayed hickey?

'Hah!' Ginny pounced smugly. 'There's nothing there, but you certainly thought that there could be! So tell me all about it! Who is he? Is he the reason you and Ron split up? Were you seeing him when you were with Ron?'

'No, Ginny, stop it. There's no one. And I was never unfaithful to your brother. How could you think I would do something like that. Please just drop it.'

'I can't Hermione,' Ginny said turning serious momentarily. 'I am happy for you. I think you deserve to have some one. I want you to find what I have with Harry. I've never seen you looking so - I don't know if soft is the right word, but you were thinking about him just now when you checked out. I know you were, and you had such a happy look on your face, I don't know - like you were finally - complete, you know. Like I feel when I think about Harry.'

Hermione looked at her friend shocked; she knew Ginny had grown up quickly for her age dragged long behind all those Weasley boys, but her open and intimate expression of how she felt about Harry made Hermione want to snort at the idea that Draco Malfoy might have felt any of that when he shagged her senseless the night before, or indeed that she could feel it herself. This was Malfoy for Merlin's sake! And she was just in lust with him! That was all it was. 'It's just sex,' she mumbled unconvincingly to herself.

'Hermione!' Ginny squealed. 'Oh my Lord, you have to tell me!' Hermione had forgotten another aspect of living with six older brothers - exceptional hearing. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

'You're not going to let go of this are you?' she asked and Ginny shook her head. 'Okay, but you have to promise not to breathe a word to anyone. Especially not Harry. I honestly doubt it's going anywhere beyond last night, and I don't want it all over the school.'

Ginny looked affronted. 'As if I would do that, Hermione,' she huffed coldly. 'Perhaps you should keep it to yourself after all, if you have such a poor opinion of me!'

'Ginny! You promise me! Stop trying to guilt me into spilling my guts!' Hermione took out her wand and touched it to Ginny's breast bone. 'Now promise me, not a word!'

Startled by the seriousness of Hermione's required wand oath, Ginny agreed clearly, 'I promise never to speak of what Hermione Granger is about to reveal to me.' The tip of Hermione's wand glowed green sealing the promise and she sighed.

'So, tell me,' Ginny pushed excitedly, bouncing on the bed. 'Is this why you backed off from Ron. There has to have been something going on or you had no reason..'

'No, I swear not. But I had - looked. Okay, Gin - it was so weird. It was like all of a sudden I just saw him, you know, and it was that very same evening when Ron finally made a move on me. I was so confused - you have no idea!! Before that day I had never, ever, ever considered him in that way at all. Not once. And there I was fretting over it in the library and in comes Ron and starts kissing me, and I remembered how we'd been getting closer to this all summer and it seemed so right in comparison. I knew he certainly didn't see me in that way either, so I thought it was just a silly hormonal thing and it would go away. Wrong time of the month - full moon, new moon, Harvest moon! I don't know! Just an insanity never to be repeated!'

Ginny nodded, seeming to realise that if she spoke now Hermione would freeze and the story would be over; but she could tell from the other girl's expression that it had been neither over nor temporary.

'So, Ron and I began getting closer, but all the time I was worrying about that one slip up, and as a result I spent even more time - looking, and once or twice I even thought he might just be looking back, or else he was just wondering what was wrong with me all of a sudden, like maybe I had indigestion or something...'

She trailed off into some memory or other and Ginny prompted gently, 'So something happened then?'

Hermione sighed, 'Yes, after Halloween. I think I was already beginning to realise that I wasn't being fair to Ron if I was even looking at someone else, no matter that he wasn't looking back.' Ginny suspected that at this point Hermione had found out he actually was looking, too. And why wouldn't he? Her friend was smart, pretty, loyal and caring; any guy would be lucky to have her. Ginny suspected that most of the boys in Hogwarts hadn't approached her thus far simply because of the intimidation of Harry and some impression that Ron had priority. If this boy was prepared to face up to cracking into the Golden Trio, he must at least be worthy of her consideration.

'After dinner one night I went outside to get some fresh air, and told Ron I would see him later. I just took a walk and he was there too, although I didn't see him at first.' Ginny rolled her eyes. Obviously not, for he had clearly followed her! 'So, we spoke a bit,' Hermione couldn't actually confess that they had argued - that would come far too close to naming names. 'And I said something - silly, and he - kissed me,' she ventured a glance at Ginny who looked fascinated. 'I was far too shocked to do anything at first, and then I just panicked and ran away -' Ginny snorted. 'Don't say it, I know! Silly little Hermione, scared by a guy kissing her. I know I should have slapped him silly and told him I was taken! Well, anyway, after that I worried even more about Ron, and looked even more frequently at him, although he didn't seem to be too bothered by it.'

'But? I know there's a but, I can feel it.' Ginny prompted.

'Aargh! Yes, he missed a class for some - commitments, and he had to get the notes from me -' A seventh year then, Ginny surmised, probably in Ravenclaw as they were the only boys with the intelligence to take Hermione's subjects. Tony she thought excitedly, making a move before Hermione was even free - but before her enthusiasm could bubble over, Hermione continued. 'We were talking in the corridor outside class, and he said something about Ron, and I don't know - I just reacted badly, guilt I suppose and I yelled at him, and he shouted back, and the next thing....' she trailed off suddenly embarrassed.

'More kissing?' Ginny said knowingly. 'Kind of mind-blowing kissing?'

'Um,' Hermione mumbled, red again. 'Well, yes - nothing like it was with Ron, anyway. We almost did - it - right there up against the wall in the corridor. Then I remembered Ron, and I - ran away again!' She groaned. 'I told Ron we couldn't see each other any more after that because nobody should keep leading someone on like that when they've just had another man's tongue in their mouth, and don't know if they have the willpower to say no if the occasion arises again.' She looked about ready to burst into tears. 'I just hope Luna is good to him, because I am ashamed of how I treated him!'

'What about him - the other guy?' Ginny pushed trying to distract Hermione from her pity-party. 'Have you been seeing him since?'

'No! I told you - we aren't together. Last night just - happened.'

'How does something like that just - happen?' Ginny asked. 'There's got to be more to it than that. You'd better finish now you've started, my girl!'

Hermione looked ready to bolt, but Ginny scowled her into submission. 'Well, it was just stupid really. He caught me in a weak moment, and was nice to me.' Ginny frowned in confusion. 'I was upset about something really silly over the Christmas Social,' Hermione sighed realising that she would have to finish now that she had gotten this far. 'And he thought I'd been worried about Vol - you know who. Okay, it was a mammoth misunderstanding, and it was so far from what was really on my mind that I just laughed at him, and I couldn't stop. But when I did it was - strange. Like all the air had been sucked out of the room and we were just staring at each other, and...' she trailed off unwilling to speak it in words of one syllable.

'Let me guess,' Ginny said. 'More kissing, and then more than kissing.'' Hermione nodded. 'He was your first, wasn't he?' Ginny pushed, although she knew the answer anyway. She studied her friend. 'Did he hurt you?'

Mortified now, Hermione managed to shake her head. 'It was - no,' she managed to stammer out. 'I'm -er - a bit achy today though.'

Ginny narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. 'How many times exactly did you do it?' she asked bluntly. 'He did make sure you came, didn't he?'

Hermione was suddenly assaulted with images of Draco in the early hours of this morning, his face strained and sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to hold off his own third massive orgasm until he had managed to push her over into climax number she-had-lost-count. 'I'll take that as a yes, then,' Ginny said dryly when no answer was forthcoming and Hermione seemed to have drifted off into fantasy-land again.

She blushed so red that she was sure her toes were scarlet also. 'Yes, he was - spectacularly concerned with my - pleasure,' she managed after several attempts to control her colour. 'And as for the other - I think I lost count at about five times, Okay?

Obviously this was not what Ginny had expected to hear despite her probing, and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. 'Wow, Hermione! I mean - gosh, even Harry and I only managed it twice the first time!' She whistled in admiration, until a thought occurred to her. 'Where on earth were you that you could spend all night shagging him? You didn't take him to your room, did you?' Hermione's flustered shuffling gave her away. 'Oh my God, Hermione! Tell me you didn't!' Ginny gasped, 'Mione, what if Malfoy had caught you? You were so lucky. Can you imagine what a field day he'd have had with that? He'd have gotten you expelled for sure if he caught you!'

Hermione was totally unable to control her expression at the mention of Draco's name. Her heart began racing and little beads of sweat broke out on her neck and forehead. She had to get Ginny off that topic before she gave herself away completely.

Too late.

Ginny was staring at her in a fascinated horror. 'Oh Merlin, Hermione, he did - didn't he? He knows you had someone in your room! Oh, this is terrible. What are you going to do? Is he blackmailing you? What does he expect you to do -?'

'No, Ginny,' Hermione rushed to reassure her, grateful that Ginny was too deeply Gryffindor to recognise the truth upon which she had so nearly stumbled. 'I swear to you he didn't catch me,' and she sounded so sincere that Ginny couldn't help but believe her.

For just a moment, that is, until they both realised simultaneously that Hermione's embarrassment and vehemence could only imply one other thing. Ginny goggled at her friend whilst Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth her eyes going wide with shock. When Ginny spoke her words were barely a whisper as she gave voice to the terrible truth that was suspended there between them like the sword of Damocles.

'Oh, Merlin, Hermione - if he didn't - and you - Oh my God, Hermione, it was Malfoy wasn't it? It was Malfoy!' Her voice was rising steadily taking on a high pitched tone of hysteria, sounding more and more like Molly. 'Oh, Morgana, Merlin and all the Saints. You fucked Malfoy! I think I'm having a heart attack!' She grasped the end of her bed and Hermione gazed in misery at her friend, waiting for the condemnation and criticism she knew was next, but when Ginny finally rediscovered her voice - and it took a considerable while - the words which escaped her lips stunned Hermione into silence. 'Is he as good as they say he is?'

Hermione wailed and cast herself down face first on Ginny's bed, her response muffled and incomprehensible through the quilts. Ginny bounced over and shook her friend. 'You can not leave it there!' She hissed. 'You absolutely can't! I need details! Tell me all about it - how did it happen? You and Malfoy! I can't believe it!'

Hermione raised a flushed and embarrassed face from the pillow. 'There is nothing to tell!' She wailed. 'Because it didn't happen. Nothing happened!'

'Do you want me to go and ask Malfoy?' Ginny pushed. 'Because I will - you know I will. I wonder what he'd have to say if I asked him - would you like to know what he thinks after I talk to him?'

Hermione sprang up from the bed. 'Ginny Weasley, don't you dare go near him with these insane accusations. Merlin knows what he'll think if he finds out - oh, Shit!'

'Hermione, just tell me. I promise I'm not going to condemn you, but I have to know what happened. I can't believe it! You and Malfoy! How could anyone have ever seen that one coming?'

'It happened just like I told you,' Hermione mumbled miserably. 'Just add the names.'

'Really?' Ginny's fascination was bordering on the macabre, and Hermione wasn't sure if the churning in her stomach was fear, shame or if she was just going to throw up. 'Hermione is he any good?'

Hermione finally regained control of her churning internal organs and calmed herself sufficiently to look at her companion. 'Ginny, why are you so interested. You've got a boyfriend, someone who I might add, you've been pursuing for five whole years! I don't ask you about Harry's bedroom skills!' No, I just watch you doing it from the Quidditch stands!

Ginny screwed her face up in an expression of distaste. 'Ew, Hermione,' she said. 'That would be like me asking you if Ron was any good. Harry's like your brother - ' Please don't ever let her find out I saw them at it! 'Draco Malfoy, however - there's not a girl in this school who hasn't wondered, you know. Even me. So let me live vicariously through you, please, Mione.'

'I can't, Gin. I can't even think about it, let alone talk about it.' Hermione whimpered burying her face in her hands. 'Why do you think I'm hiding up here. I don't know how to face him!'

'What?' Ginny was suddenly all defensive Weasley. 'Did he force you? If he did, we'll have him up to Dumbledore's office and he'll be expelled before you can say bouncing ferret!'

'No!' Hermione was horrified that Ginny could have developed such an idea, and the vehemence with which she leapt to Draco's defense initially made Ginny shrink backwards onto the bed, but was soon replaced by a smug smirk.

'Really? No?' She asked, grinning at Hermione who suddenly realised she had been well and truly caught by her devious companion. She moaned and burrowed back into Ginny's pillow.

'You are a very sneaky witch, Ginny Weasley,' she mumbled through a mouthful of bedding. 'No specifics, okay?'

'Okay, but give me something here, because I still can't get my head around how you and Draco Malfoy can have ended up in bed together after everything that has passed between you over the past six years.'

'Me either,' Hermione admitted miserably. 'But it went just as I told you, except last night. I had this dream - nightmare - about Lavender and Parvati cutting my hair off for the Christmas Social thing. I mean, Gin, they scalped me! I was bald! I promise you will do my hair on the day. I would never trust them after that! I just woke up screaming at the sight of myself in the mirror, and he - Draco must have heard me - he came charging into my room with his wand drawn ready to defend me. He thought I'd had a nightmare about Voldemort, and it was so far from the truth that I couldn't help laughing. I mean, me - who has never paid any attention to her appearance. It just struck me as funny. But then all of a sudden it was like we both realised we were almost undressed. I think he'd just got out of the shower -'

'I bet he's just delicious naked,' Ginny butted in mischievously and Hermione flushed up again.

'Yes, well,' she mumbled. 'I plead the 5th -' Ginny gave her a confused look and she waved her hand in the air. 'Muggle reference. Don't worry about it. Anyway -'

'Just tell me -' Ginny wailed. 'Give me a scale. 1 to 10.'

'Well, being as I have no basis for comparison -' Hermione finally admitted, 'On a simple sliding scale, I think I'd have to give him at least 150.' Ginny choked and her face finally became as red as her hair. Hermione smirked, an evil smirk worthy of Malfoy himself. 'I think you could probably say he's as good as his press would have you believe.'

Ginny finally stopped choking on whatever proton she had inhaled and gasped at her friend. 'Hermione Granger, I am surprised at you! I didn't think you had it in you!''

'Well, I didn't. Not until last night, anyway,' Hermione confirmed slyly, rather enjoying her opportunity to be the racy one. 'Actually I didn't think anyone could do that to me until the first time he kissed me!'

'The earth moved?' Ginny asked.

'I would think it's safe to say that's the understatement of the century,' Hermione replied dryly. 'I think the Heavens realigned themselves in the sky.'

All of a sudden her embarrassment seemed to have fled and she had a sudden sense of freedom in sharing this with Ginny. The other witch was bound by a wand oath; maybe she could make better sense of the confusion Hermione felt about the Slytherin Head Boy than she was managing on her own.

'You do know it generally improves after the first time, don't you Mione?' Ginny asked teasingly.

'I don't know if I could cope with that,' Hermione sighed ruefully. 'It might just finish me off! And that's all supposing there's going to be a next time. I'm still not sure if he just wanted to get it out of his system. You know, it could be all over Slytherin by now that Malfoy got into the Head Girl's knickers.

He'd been seeing an older witch in Hogsmeade, you know, but she got transferred up to Diagon Alley. What would he really want with an inexperienced Gryffindor virgin when he's used to sophisticated witches in their twenties?' Hermione paused to take a breath and watched for Ginny's reaction out of the corner of her eye, looking for any sign of condemnation, but Ginny was wondering how on earth Hermione knew all this about Malfoy's personal life - unless of course he had told her himself. And why would any boy tell a girl that a previous girlfriend was hundreds of miles away unless he wanted to reassure her that there was no competition from that quarter. Hmm....very interesting.

When Ginny's face didn't reflect anything other than mild encouragement, Hermione rushed on, the words falling over themselves now to escape. 'I mean, he has been really different this year, you know. Actually talking to me, and kind of flirty. And well, even last year he had laid off with the Mudblood comments and he hasn't tried to hex Harry and Ron anywhere near as much as he used to - especially since Harry was the one who got his Dad put away. I mean, the man might be a foul disgusting Death eater, but it's still his Father. He has to go to Azkaban and visit him there, did you know that? It must be awful to see someone you love in a place like that!

Hermione was simply rambling now, and Ginny let her continue, knowing she was totally unaware of how much she was revealing about the state of her emotions in the words she chose, and how she enthusiastically chattered on about Malfoy.

'He's really clever you know. I have to work with him in Potions and T-fig this year, did I tell you that before? He's got an excellent grasp on all the concepts; he picks things up ever so quickly - it's not like working with Neville, bless him! I don't know how we could have thought his father bought all his advancements for him! And he's really pulled his weight this year with the Head Boy's duties, although it must be hard with him being the Slytherin Quidditch captain too. He has so many other things he has to do. Did you know he's been tutoring Crabbe and Goyle since the third year? I actually talked to them last week in the library with that other Slytherin boy in our year - Zabini. They asked me about their study topic for the Christmas Social. That would never have happened if Draco hadn't changed first. You know what I think? I think they really like him and respect him, even if they aren't the brightest bulbs on the tree. And I don't think he keeps them around for muscle. I think he's kind of fond of the pair of them. And I'm sure they don't like Pansy,' she added darkly.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow. Draco now, was it? She stared at Hermione, laying back on the bed with her hands behind her head, gazing dreamily off into space as she continued to extol the virtues of the formerly vile and evil Prince of Slytherin. And love makes fools of us all, she thought cynically.

'He has this really quirky sense of humour. He can be quite dry and sarcastic, but he's surprised me several times since we started working together this year by how accurately he reads the rest of us. He keeps records of who gets detention with Professor Snape! How weird is that? But oddly, it came in quite useful when we were doing a seating plan for this Social night.'

It suddenly seemed to Ginny that this catalogue of Draco Malfoy's newly discovered virtues was set to go on all night. She had never in her wildest imaginings thought she would see Hermione Granger laying on her bed mooning over a boy like Lavender or Parvati, and even if the remote possibility might have occurred in some distant far off alternate universe, she would still never have picked Draco Malfoy to be the boy in question. The heart wants what the heart wants... and why am I suddenly talking in clichés?

'Hermione, enough,' she said bracingly. 'I am utterly convinced. Malfoy has changed. He has repented of his evil ways and become a paragon of virtue. Do you want me to give you both my blessing?'

Hermione sprang up abruptly from her reclining position, suddenly becoming aware of just how much she had revealed of her previously unadmitted (even to herself) feelings for the blond Slytherin. She gulped and stared at her hands which were now nervously wringing together. 'He hasn't though,' she mumbled miserably. 'There's no repenting, and he's certainly still a snarky, mean ferret. But there is also more to him than I had ever thought before.'

Ginny reached over and stilled her twisting hands. 'Just promise me one thing, Mione. Try not to get too hurt; and I know that's almost impossible to avoid, but if this carries on - and it looks like it possibly might, try and guard your heart...'

'What? Don't be silly, Gin,' Hermione said bracingly, pulling her hands away from the younger girl. 'I don't think this is a situation where we need to be talking about hearts. Next thing you'll be saying other words, which would be even sillier than thinking that hearts might be getting hurt, and stuff. I -'

'Okay, but I'll be keeping my eye on him, anyway.' Ginny added.

'Well, there's probably going to be nothing to see. Even if it were to happen again, it's not exactly something we can mention in public, what with Ron and Harry, and all those Slytherins....I'm sure it works out best that it was just a momentary insanity on both our parts.'

'Momentary insanity, that sounds about right,' Ginny agreed helpfully, wishing she could believe it - wishing that she didn't know that Hermione wanted it to be anything but.


	32. Chapter 32

One of the third years asked for homework help, and Hermione was relieved to schedule a quick tutoring session over dinner. She asked Harry and Ginny to bring her back some food, and although Ginny gave her a suspicious look which said You're hiding! she didn't challenge Hermione's decision out loud, and went down to the meal with Harry leaving Hermione and the Potions student working in a quiet alcove.

Ron had still not made an appearance and when Harry returned later with a couple of pies, he reported awkwardly that Ron had eaten dinner at the Ravenclaw table. Hermione got the impression that Ginny had instructed him to say this to her and that he was at a total loss to understand why. He had tried to convey his apologies with his eyes as if he expected the news to hurt her, but Hermione's guilt stemmed from the fact that he didn't realise that what she really felt bad about was the fact that she didn't feel bad about it.

Ron eventually returned to the Common Room shortly after 9.00. He smiled at her; the special smile he had always reserved for her in the past, and asked her again who he would be seated with at the Christmas Social. This had become a bit of a joke between them in the past fortnight since he had learnt that she was responsible for the seating plans.

Hermione had been beyond relieved that he seemed to be willing to try and reconstruct their former friendship and so this seemingly silly banter had become one of the bright spots in the midst of the soap opera her own life had become lately. As usual, she told him that he would find out when he entered the Dining Room at the Felton Arms, but today the challenge of talking to him as if nothing life-altering had happened last night left her with a churning stomach and sweaty palms; she was halfway convinced that he would be able to see what she had done, and with whom. But it seemed he was as oblivious as ever, and he joined Harry and Ginny after responding with the customary pout to her answer.

A short while later, Ginny abandoned the boys and came over to Hermione. 'You have to go back to your room sometime!' She hissed quietly. 'You can't sleep in here tonight. That really will make people talk!'

'I know,' Hermione agreed miserably. 'But I think I'm going to be sick. My stomach is all knotted up and I can't breathe.'

'Mione, get a grip. You did this! You. Not someone Polyjuicing your body! Now you have to deal with it; the corridor opens straight into your bedroom, not the study area. Be grateful for small mercies. At least you can compose yourself before you have to see him again!'

'Ginny -' Hermione whined.

'No! Go on now. The boys are beginning to look suspicious,' Ginny hissed, and true enough when Hermione turned to look at Harry and Ron, they were staring thoughtfully at Ginny and herself. Thinking quickly, Ginny pouted loudly, 'Why won't you tell me who you're sitting with Harry? You're so mean!' She winked as she complained.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'It's part of the learning experience. That's what Professor Dumbledore wants, and he'll have my badge if I tell anyone before hand. I must get back to my room now. Goodnight, Gin. Night, Harry - Ron,' she called as she gathered up her books, hoping that having something to hold onto would steady her shaking hands. As she turned towards the portrait of their House Founder, she saw Ginny mouth silently Good luck!

She gulped down a suspiciously heart-shaped lump in her throat as the portrait swung shut behind her; her insides were in sufficient turmoil already that she knew she couldn't stay in here for any length of time or the spatial displacement really would make her throw up, so she moved quickly towards the back of the other Gryffindor portrait and pushed it open into her room.

******

Draco had been waiting restlessly in the study since accosting Blaise in the Prefect's Office earlier. He was worried that the other Slytherin might decide to use his suspicions to threaten Hermione or blackmail himself, and had seriously tried to plan for that eventuality, but he kept getting distracted by the patch of carpet by the bathroom door where they had fallen this morning, and that led him into memories of what had happened afterwards, until he found that he had spent an hour or more daydreaming about the Head Girl. Again. And where the Devil was she?

Hiding, no doubt. It was already Sunday evening and he had achieved nothing today, except to moon over a girl who was running as fast as possible in the opposite direction, and stir up a lot of dangerous rumours in his House. What on earth had happened to his legendary Slytherin poise and sneakiness? He hadn't even set eyes on Pansy yet, but he was sure when he did it would be very unpleasant. He had obviously underestimated her determination and cunning; the alarm should have been his first sign and although he thought he had dealt with it, he had not followed through and as a consequence he was in this position now - where everyone in Slytherin knew what he had been doing last night, if not with whom. How long would it take for the truth to come out, and then it would look like the Second War had already started. Damn him for a love-struck idiot! Before Granger had happened to him, he would never have been so neglectful as to overlook the total destruction and removal of that stupid alarm.

Where was she?

She had hidden in the Gryffindor Tower, of that much he was certain. Several trips to the library had yielded no results, even in the Restricted Section which was open to both Head Students. He had interrupted his pacing and gone down to dinner hoping to at least catch sight of her across the expanse of the Great Hall, but Potty and the She Weasel had been there alone, although the Headmaster had announced that 'Miss Granger is tutoring tonight, and if anyone wishes to make an appointment with her she will be available tomorrow lunch time.' Granger's annoying ex-Weasel had sat at the Ravenclaw table with that incredibly odd Quibbler girl. How he could move on from Hermione to that nut-case seemed incomprehensible to Draco, he - no, wait. What on earth was he thinking? Good riddance to the Weasel; long live that particular romance - now he just needed to divert Goldstein and the field would be clear for himself.

This latest thought more or less drove Draco over the edge. How many more boys were lurking around Hogwarts just waiting for the opportunity to steal her away from him? He had only just got her! But then the reality of that statement sunk in to his mind. He had got her; last night it had been him, not Weasley or Goldstein or any of the other boys in Hogwarts, but he who had been gifted with her first time, with her sighs and whimpers and gasps of arousal! It was him she had allowed into her bed, and him she had awoken beside this morning, and by Merlin he would damn well make sure it was going to be that way every morning from now on!

He stared towards her bedroom door; he had left it deliberately wide open after he searched in here for her after his conflict with Nick Bartlett. She would be coming back from the Gryffindor Tower and he doubted she would walk brazenly through the main door, if she thought she could sneak straight in to her bedroom without encountering him. Godric Gryffindor had been scowling and waving his sword at Draco from his portrait ever since he dared set foot in the Head Girl's bedroom alone this afternoon. Draco had been quick to cast a binding spell on him also; he didn't want anyone nipping off to Dumbledore and reporting that Hermione had allowed him in her private room.

Sometimes, it paid to have a fine Dark Arts library in your home.

Finally unable to contain himself, Draco leapt up from the desk and prowled into Hermione's room. Gryffindor's eyes fairly bugged out of his painted head, but due to the binding he was unable to do more than mouth obscenities and wave his famous sword wildly. Draco ignored the angrily gesticulating Founder as he paced back and forth in front of the portal trying to will it into opening and revealing the Head Girl.

So focused was he on sending his silent mental demands that he failed entirely to notice when Gryffindor's expression changed from annoyance to alarm and he began desperately to clutch onto the corner of the picture frame as if to keep it shut.

******

Hermione was still remonstrating with herself as she emerged into her bedroom; she was trying to convince herself that she was not terrified of her next encounter with the Head Boy, but failing dismally. She realised now, too late, that hiding away as she had for the best part of the day would no doubt make their next encounter all the more awkward. It would no doubt give Draco the impression that the experience had meant more to her than she wanted him to know. So easy to be wise after the event.

Consequently, as she stepped through the doorway into her room and smashed straight into a tall solid object, she let out a squeal of surprise and all her books flew from her arms to land with a resounding thud on the floor around her feet. The realisation which followed a millisecond later, that the solid object she had crashed into was the Head Boy himself, took more precious moments of time to sink into her bemused brain, and all she could manage by way of speech was a confused gurgle as she was trapped by his burning gaze.

She licked her lips in an effort to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, and tried to remember how to form those little things you needed to create speech. In a truly spectacular attempt to clarify his presence in her room she managed to interrogate him, 'Dra - Malf - er, What?'

But for Draco, the sight of that little pink tongue drove all of his previously constructed opening remarks out of his head. He was always more of an action person anyway, and what he wanted was right there in front of him. 'Granger!' he growled out her name in a hoarse voice, and in the next moment he had snatched her towards him and taken her mouth with his again.

Hermione was frozen for several moments in a haze of disbelief, before her instincts took over and with a faint whimper she grabbed back at him, her left hand fisting in his green sweater and the right skating up over his shoulder to burrow into the hair at the back of his head and pull him even closer. They staggered backwards until he had her trapped against the portrait of Gryffindor which had swung shut behind her as she entered her room.

Godric was screaming furiously and attempting to slice Draco through with his sword, although due to the limitations of his two dimensional existence any efforts on his behalf to commit violence were doomed to fail, and bound by Draco's spell, he found himself unable to make any noise to save his student from the vile Slytherin currently devouring her with such passion.

Draco's hands were inside her jumper caressing her skin, working towards the fastening of her bra, and emboldened by their intimacy of the previous night, Hermione's fingers let go of his own sweater and moved downwards towards his belt; he groaned into her mouth as he felt her hesitant attempts to undo the buckle, and thrust his hips encouragingly towards her. 'Merlin, yes, Granger,' he gasped against her lips. 'Touch me there!' and momentarily forgetting her intention to undress him, Hermione followed his direction and cupped her hand around the hot rigid length of his erection, gently rubbing as he panted and buried his face in her neck. Tentatively, she allowed her hand to slide lower, between his legs until she had the weight of his balls in the cup of her palm and she rolled them carefully against the seam of his jeans. His body was shaking against hers now as if he was ill, and she knew she was not in a much better state herself. Her pussy was aching it felt so empty, and her sensible M&S knickers were slippery with her arousal and chafing against her swollen sex. 'Bed,' Draco gasped, his breath hot against her neck. 'Need you now...'

'Yes,' she moaned and by mutual consent they moved away from the wall still kissing and groping as they crossed the room. Hermione was tugging him by his belt towards the bed when he stopped suddenly and turned her towards the door. She whimpered a protest. 'But - the bed....'

'Yes,' he growled. 'Mine. I want you in my bed; I want to see you spread out on my sheets, your hair on my pillow. I want to be able to lie there at night and breathe your scent all around me....' Hermione could not prevent another groan from spilling over. Merlin, he didn't even have to touch her; he could seduce her into anything just by the tone of his voice and the pictures he painted with his words!

Draco decided their progress across the study was taking far too long, and he picked her up suddenly, carrying her in his arms into his bedroom. Hermione, (who had always thought the image of the sexy hero sweeping a helpless female off her feet and carrying her away to be thoroughly ravished, was an appallingly kitschy cliché horrendously overused in romance novels) suddenly decided that it was nothing of the sort when it was happening to you. In the morning, she would probably be ashamed of how weak and girly she felt being carried away in Draco's strong arms, but right now it was stunningly romantic and absolutely perfect. She twined her arms around his neck, playing with the curls at the back of his head and pressed feverish little kisses against his throat and shoulder.

He was stumbling by the time he reached his room; the intensity of his arousal made it difficult enough to walk and the friction of Hermione's hip rubbing over the tip of his erection every time he took a step was driving him insane. He finally dropped her onto his bed, and stood beside it for a moment to appreciate the picture she made, her wild hair framing her flushed and aroused face, but when she reached her arms out to him and murmured his name breathily he lost all sense of restraint. He paused only long enough to mutter a disrobing spell; he couldn't even wait the time it needed to undress normally, before he fell onto the bed beside her and brought their naked skin together.

'Oh!' she gasped as he rolled over until he was hovering above her, the rigid bar of his swollen penis trapped between them. Instinctively they both thrust forwards at the same time, but Draco made no further movement to enter her. Instead he buried his hands into her hair on either side of her head and held her still so that he could stare into her eyes as he seduced her with his words.

'I want you,' he whispered and enjoyed the way her dark eyes glowed with golden lights at his demands. 'I haven't been able to think about anything else all day....while I was eating lunch in the Great Hall, I was thinking about your mouth. Then when I was arranging practice schedules with Hooch this afternoon, I was thinking about your breasts. But most of all, while I was waiting for you to get back tonight, I was thinking about how hot and tight your gorgeous pussy felt as you came around my cock. I can't wait to feel that again. What about you, Mina? Did you think about me today, too?'

Hermione could barely speak. How could he even form sentences, let alone create a masterpiece of seductive prose, when all she felt capable of was melting into a puddle at his feet? She groaned; her tummy was sticky again and she knew he was leaking profusely between their bodies. Merlin, she was too; there was probably a puddle of her own arousal forming on the covers beneath her. 'Tell me,' he prompted huskily as he rubbed against her scraping her nipples with the dusting of his chest hair. She gasped as they pebbled harder into aching points desperate to be rubbed, licked, anything so long as he touched them.

'Oh, God - Yes!' she whimpered finally when he seemed to have no intention of continuing without her acknowledgement. 'All the time! Draco -'

But he had nothing more to say, and his mouth moved down to reward her answer by swiping his tongue over her swollen nipples then blowing gently over the damp area causing the surrounding pink areola to wrinkle up. He was fascinated by her breasts; before yesterday he would never have believed she was hiding these beneath her uniform - even when she was in her muggle clothes she tended to favour large baggy sweaters and looser shirts. He thought he should tell her, 'Merlin, Granger,' he whispered as his teeth nipped at her. 'You've got gorgeous breasts! Look how they're just exactly the right size for my hands!' Suiting action to his words, he cupped one in each palm and pushed them carefully together before burying his face in the cleavage he created.

Hermione felt unable to share his appreciation; although not huge, she had been horrified when her chest suddenly developed into this at the beginning of 6th year. However, the sight of Draco Malfoy nuzzling at her firm creamy flesh made her wonder if she might have to rethink her opinion of her own assets. He was certainly showing her they had other functions than to just annoy her when she was getting dressed. She had never suspected that her nipples could be so sensitive to someone's - Draco's - touch that she could be on the verge of climaxing with no other foreplay at all.

'Please -' she panted, wriggling under him to try and position his erection where she needed him most, and he obliged her by withdrawing from her breasts but instead of entering her aching body, he took his penis further away from her causing moans of protest to escape her. He slipped down and ghosted feather-light kisses down her stomach and around her navel which he had barely taken the time to notice was pierced with a diamond studded hoop the previous night. He certainly intended to make up for that lost opportunity tonight and rolled his tongue around the hoop nudging at it with his nose until she cried out his name impatiently.

'Kinky, Granger,' he muttered. 'Is this a Muggle thing? We both have something round our navels, then!' Then he was all business again, finally reaching his destination as he covered the last few inches between her piercing and the fluffy chestnut curls which guarded the centre of her body.

Hermione had a sudden realisation of where he was heading and jolted momentarily from her haze of arousal. It was one thing to have his mouth there when she had just stepped out of the shower, but she had been in a nervous sweaty panic most of today and he shouldn't - 'Draco!' She protested trying to squeeze her legs back together as he began pushing them apart. This wasn't easy for he was already settled firmly between her thighs and very determined.

'What?' he asked. 'I already know what you taste like, Granger. Don't go all shy on me now. I'm starving - I haven't eaten since breakfast...' he added wickedly and Hermione couldn't control the flush which suffused her at his implication.

'Yes, but - this morning, it was after, you know -the - the shower. But now it's -' and Draco realised what she was getting at. Really, it did astonishing things to him, the way she babbled when she was aroused; the most articulate witch in school unable to string a whole sentence together.

'Yes, Hermione,' he agreed. 'This morning there was a shower, and now there isn't. This is all you. Your taste, your scent. Not some fruit flavored soap, and this is what I want!' He emphasized his point rather adequately she thought, by stroking the sticky damp curls back from her swollen sensitive entrance and trailing his tongue from the very back of her slit right up until he sucked her quivering clit deep into his mouth.

Before today, Hermione had always found the thought of oral sex to be rather dirty and off-putting. She had certainly no desire to let a guy put his penis in her mouth; for God's sake - it was what he used for the toilet! And she had thought it equally distasteful that a man would want to go anywhere near her own sex with his mouth.

She had never been so happy to be proven wrong in her life. Draco's tongue was hot and forceful but silky and soft as velvet as he sucked and caressed the deepest regions of her body. All thoughts of getting him inside her fled her mind as she lay shaking under the sweep of his tongue, I'm a convert, I'm a convert she chanted in her mind. Her hands had moved without her direction and were clutched in his hair keeping him in place. The orgasm caught her unawares; Draco was flicking his tongue rhythmically over her clit and when he slipped his middle finger inside her pussy she came so suddenly and so hard the Earth Moved.

Draco finally stopped drinking down her release when she was on the absolute verge of blacking out, and looked up at her, his mouth smeared with the remains of her climax, and asked curiously, 'What have you converted to?'

Despite her lethargy, the realisation that she had been moaning her epiphany out loud caused Hermione to giggle helplessly, and Draco mock-scowled at her. 'Ho! So you'd laugh at my efforts, would you?' He growled. 'I can see I'll have to try even harder next time!'

Hermione shivered in unexpected pleasure at the thought that he anticipated a next time, and quickly on the heels of that thought followed the realisation that so far Draco hadn't actually experienced a this time yet. She rolled slightly away from him and he moaned at their separation, but Hermione was currently not attending to his complaints; all of her attention was focused on the sight of his erect penis straining upwards between their bodies. Her fingers reached tentatively towards him and brushed lightly over the slit at the end; instantly beads of slick clear fluid seeped out over her questing fingers. Draco groaned and immediately fell onto his back so that she could have free access to his cock. He was so hard his whole body ached, even down to the tips of his toes and the ends of his hair.

He thought he would go mad with the butterfly-light teasing of her fingers against the length of his erection, but he was aware that she was really only one night away from being a virgin, and despite her inherently passionate nature, was probably still too shy to take the initiative with his body as he wished. He took her hands in his and lifted them away from his bursting penis. 'Ride me,' he whispered, pulling her into position until she straddled his hips hovering above him. He could feel the heat of her pussy against him as his cock twitched upwards wanting in. He took her hand again and placed it around his erection. 'Guide me in,' he encouraged and sucked his breath in harshly as she did so. 'Fucking Hell, Mina,' he moaned. 'You're hotter than the Sahara and wetter than the ocean! I'm not going to last more than a minute!' Deeply aware of his imminent climax her began rubbing against her clit with the pad of his thumb as he encouraged her to rise and fall on his rapidly swelling penis. She began moaning, those breathy little whimpers that turned him on unlike anything else, as she found her rhythm and her muscles clenched around him. Draco could feel the imminence of his own orgasm as his testicles tightened and drew up towards his body, and he knew that he was going to come harder than he ever had in his life before.

'Mina, Now!' he gasped, unable to hold it back another second. He moved his hand away from between her legs and brought her down hard against his pubic bone so that her clit brushed against the coarse sandy hairs there. He was rewarded by the sound of her grunting in shock as her muscles clamped around him in uncontrollable spasms, at the very same instant that his own control shattered and torrents of his boiling seed erupted from his balls down the pulsing length of his cock and poured into her shuddering body until it could no longer be contained and began leaking out where they were still joined.

Somewhat later when a semblance of control returned to his shaking limbs, he found that there were absolutely no words to follow that experience, so instead he simply moved them both into a more comfortable position and allowed sleep to overtake him.

***********

When she awoke the next morning she was confused by the angle of the morning light, and it took her a couple more moments to realise that it was to her left because she was on the opposite side of the study, in the other bedroom. She kept her eyes closed for several more agonized moments trying to assimilate the fact that she had done it again.

And then more times after that. She had awakened in the early hours of the morning already aroused and aching, to realise that Draco had a hand between her legs and was caressing her gently whilst he rubbed his erection against her bottom. As soon as the jagged, uneven tenor of her breathing alerted him to the fact that she was awake, he had lifted her leg and brought it back to lie over his own, allowing him to slip inside her smoothly from behind. This new angle had exposed places inside her that Hermione had no idea were so sensitive, and within short order she had been gasping his name as she shattered around him once again.

'It's no good faking. I know you're awake,' came an amused voice from beside her, and her eyes flew open to find the object of her downfall lounging beside her on the bed his head propped up on one hand, studying her.

She groaned and flung an arm over her eyes, unsure what to do or say. Draco apparently had no such misgivings. 'Come on sleepyhead,' he prodded. 'We still have time.'

An uncontrollable image of what they had done to each other last night flashed into her head and she whimpered turning away; beside her she heard Draco's breath hitch. It was uncanny how he seemed able to read her mind. 'Not that I would object to a repeat -several repeats, actually - of last night,' he said huskily, running a finger down her bare back to end up with a firm squeeze of her bum, 'I was thinking more along the lines of a shower before breakfast. It is Monday, you know. Unless you would prefer to skip classes today and just stay in bed. I'm sure we can think of something to tell the teachers when they ask where we were?'

And because she was utterly confused and had absolutely no idea where this was going or what was happening to her, Hermione chose to ignore the real world for ten more minutes and allowed Draco to lead her into the bathroom, where ten minutes turned into twenty, and then thirty, and not much actual showering took place.

However, they finally had to dress for the day and real life insisted on rearing up between them. Hermione's clothes were all in her room, as Draco's were in his and so they separated on the threshold of the bathroom to fall back into their Slytherin and Gryffindor personas. Neither spoke of the necessity to keep this an absolute secret, for it went without saying that what had happened here could never be made public. Despite Dumbledore's and the Sorting Hat's urgings, they were both fully aware that some things would never be accepted.

Hermione was dithering in her room, unwilling to step through the portrait of Gryffindor and join the rest of her House in case Ginny would be able to tell that she had slept with Draco again; she also knew they couldn't possibly walk down to breakfast together, so she was hoping that if she delayed long enough Draco would get a nice head start on her and be all settled at the Slytherin table when she arrived.

Instead, he paused by her open door as he passed by, also seeming unable to deal with the return of reality. 'What do you have first class, Granger?' he asked diffidently, grasping for anything to keep her near for a moment longer.

'That would be Herbology,' she replied unhappily, for she truly was not looking forward to spending any time in such close proximity to Pansy Parkinson given their past history this term, and the undeniable fact that she had just spent the last 48 hours being the Other Woman whom Pansy had asked for her help to discover.

Draco also felt an instant foreboding at the thought of Hermione and Pansy together for any length of time. Despite Blaise's stumbling to cover his blunder there was a lot of truth in what he had said about Pansy being spiteful and currently very, very vengeful. He remembered seeing them argue after a Prefect Meeting way back before Halloween. Hermione had apparently already pissed Pansy off once this year. It was imperative that she never find out that the Head Girl was the one who had ignited the volcano, so to speak.

'Fuck,' he muttered, running his hands through his hair and destroying the perfect style he had just achieved. He quickly crossed the intervening space between himself and Hermione, and grabbed her into a brief but fierce kiss. 'Just be bloody careful around Pansy, okay Granger?' he pleaded as he walked backwards away from her, leaving her stunned and bewildered. 'Promise me.'


	33. Chapter 33

'Something's up with the Slytherins,' Harry said quietly, leaning in towards Ron. Ginny, sitting opposite him, started to turn and check it out, but Harry hissed. 'No, don't look now. See what you think when you leave for class.'

Hermione stared at her plate. This was the first meal she had managed to take in the Great Hall since breakfast on Saturday, and almost immediately Harry comes up with this to disturb her. Apparently, in the depths of her own paranoia she had forgotten just how observant Harry Potter could be. If he said there was something going on with the other house, then there probably was. She didn't dare to turn and look; she had deliberately chosen to sit with her back to Draco's table for she wasn't sure how far her acting ability stretched in regard to treating him as if nothing had happened.

Ron appeared to be studying the Slytherins out of the corner of his eye, also. 'You're right, Harry,' he agreed, 'But I don't think it's any of the usual stuff. They're being kind of weird. The younger kids all look nervous and our lot are split right up - boys on one side and girls on the other.'

'Yeah, and Malfoy doesn't seem to be doing anything about it,' Harry went on. 'He's just eating like he hasn't even noticed. That's not like him; he may be an obnoxious ferret, but he usually has an iron grip on the people in his house. I don't like it.'

Ginny seemed to be trying to catch Hermione's glance, but she refused to look up; they absolutely could not acknowledge that yesterday's conversation had ever taken place, not here in midst of all the other students. But although she refused to make eye contact with Ginny, Hermione's mind was frantically whirring, wondering what on earth could be causing the Slytherins to behave oddly today. Great Merlin, surely they couldn't have found out already? Ron had said that Malfoy seemed unconcerned, but Hermione did not believe in coincidence; it was too suspicious and far-fetched that today's unusual behaviour could be unrelated to what had happened between herself and Malfoy over the weekend, in some form or other.

The meal seemed interminable, and Hermione breathed a huge sigh of relief when the students finally began filtering out of the room towards their classes, led by a mass exodus of the younger Slytherins who seemed desperate to remove themselves from the imminent storm brewing at the top of their table.

Hermione finally felt comfortable casting a glance over to the Slytherin table, and found that Harry had been right; Draco seemed totally unaffected by the tense atmosphere which was definitely hanging over the rest of his House. He walked out of the Great Hall accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, wearing his usual arrogant smirk and looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. Hermione envied him his ability to behave as if the earth had not suddenly shifted on its axis.

Once Malfoy had passed through the doors, the façade of normality collapsed. Immediately, all the older girls gathered around Pansy and engaged in a heated debate with much attendant arm waving and gesticulation. Hermione moved towards the door herself and soon felt someone come up behind her as she watched surreptitiously.

'Interesting,' Ginny muttered beside her. 'Boys can be so stupid sometimes; it would never even occur to them that whatever is brewing over there might not originate with Malfoy. The female is certainly the more deadly of the species.' Hermione flushed, somewhat distracted from her observation of Pansy's crowd by the thought of Ginny finding out she had slept with Malfoy again. 'I wonder what's got her in such an uproar today? You don't suppose those rumours were true do you, about the fidelity charm, and all?'

Hermione sucked in her breath and swung around to face Ginny in horrified shock. The subject of their taunting conversation that fateful afternoon in the Potions corridor suddenly coming back to her in glorious Technicolor and surround-sound. While it was true that she had spent innumerable hours since then brooding on the single event which had awakened her new awareness of Draco Malfoy, her ruminations had tended to focus on her own thespian solo, and not the conversation which had preceded it. She was forcefully reminded of the exact topic of speculation by Ginny's comment.

For her part, Ginny had genuinely only been thinking out loud, and it wasn't until she caught the stricken expression on the other girl's face that she considered the deeper implications of what she had just said, and gasped herself reaching out a hand to reassure the older girl, 'Oh, Merlin! Hermione - I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I was just -'

'No, I know you didn't,' Hermione replied grimly. 'But it would explain why he told me to watch out for Pansy!'

Ginny goggled. 'He told you that?' she asked disbelievingly. 'When did he tell you to watch out for her? Oh my God! Again! Last night?' Hermione had no intention of answering that question anyway, but was saved from the necessity of refusing to do so by the fact that something had started happening over at the Slytherin table. The two Gryffindors watched surreptitiously as Blaise Zabini entered the Hall and went straight up to the coterie of girls surrounding the 7th year prefect.

At first Pansy looked like she wanted to hex him; in fact, two of the other girls had to hold her arms to prevent her from attacking him - which confused Hermione and Ginny no end given the conclusions they had just drawn about the reasons for Pansy's disquiet - but Zabini apparently managed to make enough soothing overtures and apologies, and eventually Pansy tucked an arm in the crook of his elbow and accompanied him out of the room.

'Well, that was - strange,' Ginny offered thoughtfully. 'I wonder what he's got to do with whatever's brewing up over there?'

Hermione was brought forcefully back to the reality that she had to spend the next hour and a half partnered with Pansy, and she desperately hoped that whatever magic Zabini had worked over her continued to hold up throughout the whole of the class. Although she had rarely paid any attention to the dark Slytherin boy, for he was the sort who tended to blend into the background, she found herself now thanking any deity who was listening that he was in the Herbology class with her and Pansy.

'I don't know,' Hermione answered grimly, 'But whatever it is I hope he can keep her muzzled for the next ninety minutes!' She groaned. 'I have to go, Ginny. I have Herbology with her next period, and we're partners on this project.'

Ginny sucked in an appalled breath. 'No, Mione! You can't! Perhaps you should just skip...I could tell Neville you went to see Madam Pomfrey about a girly problem, he'll make your excuses to Sprout -'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, that wouldn't be sensible. I absolutely can't do anything that looks remotely suspicious. Our sessions usually comprise of me doing the work and her sulking anyway. Except this time she's really got something to sulk about!'

'Who's sulking?' Harry's voice asked behind them, and Hermione realised that the boys had finished eating finally and had joined them at the side of the room. Harry's arm snaked around Ginny's waist and twisted her around to drop a less-than-chaste kiss on her upturned mouth.

'Ugh, you two - that's my sister,' Ron complained disgustedly. 'I'm going to have to go and sterilize my eyes now,' and to Hermione's great relief the subject was averted. Harry and Ron left for their first class which was Divination, a subject which Hermione usually couldn't believe they were still taking in their 7th year, but today was hugely grateful for as it separated them from her by the whole distance of the school.

Ginny left to join her own classmates with a worried glance at Hermione, and she was suddenly alone with her thoughts and nothing but the prospect of ninety minutes of Pansy Parkinson's company. She took a deep breath and set out across the lawn to the greenhouses.

*********

Draco was also thinking about Pansy, but not with the same ambivalence as Hermione. He was furious with himself for his incompetence, but he was also beginning to rediscover his annoyance at Pansy's presumption. Maybe this reaction should have come sooner, but he had been so totally thrown off balance by his sudden descent into the real world of wanting someone who didn't even notice he was alive, that he had forgotten he was entitled to a certain righteous indignation over her behaviour.

Well, he was going on the attack now. He wasn't sure when he would face off with her about her actions; but there could be no denying that he was aware of what had happened - after all the whole of Slytherin knew, so he could hardly have remained in ignorance. It would be anticipated - expected even, that he express his displeasure. But it must be done so carefully that she could in no way discover whom he had been with, because her first actions if learning of Hermione's identity would no doubt be to squeal to all the prominent ex-Slytherins in the service of He-who-must-not-be-named, therefore jeopardizing Draco's own tentative defection, and also - more significantly in his mind - possibly endangering Hermione's life.

All through Muggle Studies his mind considered and rejected possible ways of muzzling Pansy. Professor DiBona sent him several concerned looks when he made no effort to participate, for he usually spent nearly as much time talking as she did.

But inspiration was to strike suddenly in the unlikely form of his Head of House. Professor Snape knocked and was bidden to enter shortly before the end of the period. Since Professor DiBona had set them to reading a Muggle text, with the intent of debating during the next class whether it's subject and construction implied that the author had any knowledge of the magical world, she was quite content to leave them to their studying and chat with the other teacher.

Draco watched them conversing quietly at the front of the class, until Professor DiBona went into her store cupboard to collect something which Snape had obviously asked to borrow. Draco was staring thoughtfully at Professor Snape when the man's eyes turned sharply to look at the students, and immediately sought his own out. Maintaining the customary Malfoy calm, Draco managed to nod marginally at him, and was utterly flabbergasted - there really was no other word for it - when Professor Snape actually winked - winked - at him!

He was sure his mouth must have dropped open, a suspicion which was confirmed when his Head of House discreetly tapped beneath his own chin with the tip of one finger, indicating that Draco should close up, and proving beyond a shadow of doubt that news of his escapade had even reached the ears of the Head of Slytherin. And with that one action, the inspiration for his retribution on Pansy took root in Draco's mind.

Draco Malfoy had always led what he perceived as a charmed life; aside from certain memorable moments here within the walls of this very school - and always at the hands of Potter, Weasley and their gorgeous Lioness - he had always managed to come up smelling of roses. He had been given all the attention and material goods he had ever wanted, and as long as he paid close mind to his father's instructions and made no effort to express himself as an individual, life had been pretty easy for him so far. There had only been two occasions upon which Lucius had seen fit to hex him for insubordination, and Draco was not a masochist; he had never felt the necessity to turn that into three. So he followed the easiest course, and toed the required line. However, once or twice in his life, sheer unadulterated luck had delivered things to him which exceeded even his own expectations of what he deserved.

The most recent of these had of course been the afternoon when he overheard the Gryffindor girls giggling in the potions corridor, which had led him to his current position in the favour of the Head Girl, even though he may not have considered that an actual blessing when it first occurred. But the occasion which rose to the forefront of his memory at the sight of the Portions Master, was one as far removed from the delicious birth of his current infatuation as it was possible to get.

It had happened during 5th year, whilst he had been a part of the doomed Inquisitorial Squad, a less than glorious time in his life which even now inspired shudders of disbelief if he ever allowed himself to think about it. At the time however, he had been too buzzed by his father's uncharacteristic approval, and also the banishment of Potter from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, to give thorough consideration to what Umbridge was actually expecting them to do.

This particular night, very close to the end of term, he had been prowling the corridors with several other Slytherins and had caught the usual suspects in the act of breaking into Umbridge's office. If Draco himself might have had more interest in waiting around to eavesdrop on what they were up to, the presence of the other prefects made it impossible to do anything other than immediately fetch the Hogwarts High Inquisitor herself, and after their apprehension he had made do with tossing Granger's confiscated wand around and watching as she - supposedly - cracked and divulged all of Potter's secrets. He hadn't believed a word of the drivel she spouted; her tears were obviously fake - designed to trap dear Dolores, but Umbridge had swallowed it like it was gospel. After a failed attempt to accompany them on their investigation so that he could discover exactly what the cunning Gryffindor witch had been plotting behind her false wailing, and which he was absolutely positive would not end as Umbridge expected it, Draco had shrugged and given up on the Headmistress; the woman was obviously an idiot. However, thinking back now he saw that a sneaking admiration for Granger may have taken root on that very occasion, opening the door for him to find himself where he had last night.

What was the most useful discovery on that particular evening however, had followed after the debacle in Umbridge's office. On being summarily dismissed by the acting Headmistress, Draco had realised that something about the whole episode was just off, what with Potter yelling gibberish at Professor Snape, and the man not even bothering to indulge in his favourite pastime of deducting Gryffindor points. Draco had decided that it might be worthwhile to visit his Head of House and see if he could learn anything to his advantage when next facing off against Pot-Head.

He had ditched the rest of the patrol party, and made his way quietly down to the dungeons, considering and rejecting several conversation openers as he traveled. However, it turned out he was not the only student in search of the Potions Professor that evening. Even as he rounded the corner leading up to Snape's office, he heard Pansy Parkinson's voice carrying out from inside in the silence of the stone walled passageway.

'But, Professor Snape, why can't you change the mark on my test?' Pansy was whining in her nasal voice. Draco shuddered; Merlin, why had he ever been daft enough to allow her in his bed at the beginning of term? She was watching him now in a very proprietorial way that made his skin crawl. He eased soundlessly closer; it was despicable of him he knew, but he really, really wanted to hear Snape icily castigate the girl who had been such a pain in his arse this year. Snape might favour the Slytherins during class time, but he had absolutely no qualms about berating them for infractions in private. This was going to be good.

Actually, it turned out to be even better than Draco could have imagined even if he had spent a whole term trying to think up some means of embarrassing Pansy. Professor Snape sighed and began to explain to the girl in a tone which he might have used on a four year old, 'Because, Miss Parkinson, I do not mark the OWLs. You should be, as is the rest of the school, quite aware that an outside Board of Examiners both administer and grade your exams. Now, if you would please stop wasting my time, I have urgent business to attend -'

Draco had wrinkled his forehead at that; despite his glee at listening to Pansy's stupidity, something about the tone of Snape's voice, the mildness of his rebuke, rang warning bells in Draco's head. But before the suspicion could manifest itself into anything concrete, Pansy uttered the immortal words which were about to crucify her for that fidelity hex.

She spoke softly and in what Draco supposed she believed to be a seductive voice, 'But Professor,' she whispered, and Draco could just picture her attempting to pout prettily, 'If you do this for me, I would really like to make it worth your while...' she left the sentence trailing off, and Draco had to stuff a fist in his mouth to hold in the snort of glee that was trying to escape. Merlin's toenails, Pansy Parkinson hadn't actually just come on to Professor Snape of all people, had she?

Apparently, the teacher shared Draco's disbelief. There was a moment of what he could only assume was stunned silence, and then Snape's voice, deadlier and silkier than Draco had ever heard it. 'Miss Parkinson,' he said in a quiet, sibilant hiss which made all the hairs on Draco's neck stand on end. 'Am I to assume that in return for a better mark on your Potions OWL, you are offering to - copulate - with me?'

Pansy was impervious, rushing happily on to her doom. 'Oh, Sir, don't say it like that! It sounds so - so cold. I was thinking we could - you know, and it's not like I've never done it before. And I imagine it's been quite a while since you -' Her voice suddenly faltered and Draco knew that she had finally realised just exactly what she was saying and to whom. He rolled his head back and forth against the wall trying to contain himself. This was even better than anything Umbridge and the Gryffindors might be up to.

'Miss Parkinson,' Professor Snape was saying now, 'If you intend to do it, I think you should be able to actually say it!' There was a rustling of clothing, and the sound of footsteps. Draco imagined that Snape was advancing on Pansy, looming over her threateningly. 'I can assure you that I know how to say it, and do it! Although, you are correct - it has been a while since I did it with a young girl such as yourself. All those dark revels that one attends do tend to make a man's taste very - jaded, shall we say. I hope I will be able to remember how to treat a lady such as yourself....'

Pansy gasped and Draco pressed himself back against the wall trying to hold in howls of laughter; she couldn't really think that Snape would ever in a million years take her up on such a pathetic offer, could she? Apparently so. 'A - actually, that's okay, sir. I - I'll just tell my Father I want to drop Potions next year!' Pansy was stammering now and Draco could hear her high heels retreating nearer to the door.

'Oh, but Miss Parkinson, I am so sincerely flattered by your kind offer; perhaps we should talk about it in my chambers -' Snape sighed, and Draco could clearly hear the laughter the older man was trying to suppress. Pansy let out a squeak of pure terror and seconds later she fled past Draco as fast as her feet would carry her, scarlet with shame and tears of fear running down her face. She never even realised he was there.

Draco waited until he could regain control of his breathing and heard Snape snort a quick laugh out from inside the room, before the door slammed shut cutting him off from any more opportunities to eavesdrop. A surge of magic signifying the placing of wards and silencing spells shivered over Draco's flesh, but he was far too engrossed in replaying the previous five minutes in his head to remember the events which had preceded this highly entertaining occurrence.

He didn't even consider why he had been down here in the first place; the only thing which was currently spinning around in his head was how he could best use the knowledge he had just acquired.

And oddly, almost two years had passed before the perfect occasion presented itself. Draco was suddenly glad he was a patient man; the shock on Parkinson's face when she found out she was sitting next to Professor Snape at the Christmas Social would be worth the wait. It would only necessitate the changing of Mandy Brocklehurst from one table to another; he was fairly sure that Hermione would not object if he told her why it would be so delicious to do that. She had absolutely no liking for the Slytherin girl and if she ever found out what Pansy had done she would probably hex the girl into the middle of next year anyway. Rumour around the school had it that it wasn't wise to get on Granger's bad side.

***********

Pansy seemed to be clinging onto Zabini when Hermione arrived almost late at Greenhouse 3. Neville and Parvati beckoned her over, and thankfully Parvati immediately began talking about the Social evening. Hermione was amazed that everyone was so fascinated by where they were going to be seated. Half of her time these days seemed to consist of telling people that she couldn't tell them where they were sitting, and they would find out on the night. But the normality of the conversation was just what she needed to calm her nerves before facing Pansy; particularly with the new suspicion that the Slytherin girl knew something. Apparently, neither Parvati or Neville were noticing anything amiss with their Head Girl this morning, which was another blessing.

Although, loath as she was to admit it, Hermione had slept better than she could ever remember the night before; it seemed that enormous quantities of mind blowing orgasms followed by slumber wrapped in the arms of a blond Slytherin were very good for the body. She certainly looked better than Pansy Parkinson this morning, Hermione thought guiltily. In fact, after she had finally left the shower and examined herself in the mirror, the irritating enchanted glass had saucily winked at her and informed her that she actually looked almost pretty today.

Sadly, the same could not be said of Pansy; she had obviously used several concealing charms on her face, but these were unfortunately insufficient to hide the redness of her nose, nor the puffiness around her eyes. She looked like a girl who had been crying for hours, and had not slept for days.

Hermione actually began to find herself feeling sorry for the other girl; she remembered how she had felt in 4th year when Ron had invited Padma to the Yule Ball, without even thinking of asking her. How much worse must it be if you truly believed yourself to be in love with someone and found that he had not merely asked another girl out, but had slept with her? A lot.

Luckily Professor Sprout chose to spend the first half of the class discussing the first set of results which the students had submitted on their Venis project. By the time she directed them to pair up and examine the plant for sufficient maturity to harvest the sap, Pansy seemed to have calmed somewhat.

It had become habit for Hermione to join the other girl at her work bench; it was a typical Slytherin power play, and Hermione could not be bothered to dispute it previously, but today the walk from the other side of the greenhouse seemed to stretch out before her for miles. She had never been so daunted by the thought of facing another person in her life before.

Luckily, Pansy was so involved in her own misery that she barely noticed Hermione's abstraction. They put on their leather gloves and face shields and cautiously removed the lid from the habitat box; the Venis immediately began snaking its tendrils upwards towards the fresh air, and they had no time for introspection as they began to handle the poisonous plant.

The blow up came at the end of class, after Professor Sprout had placed all the habitat boxes on a wheeled trolley and taken them out of the main teaching greenhouse into a smaller storage area. By this time, the only people left were Hermione, Neville and Pansy. Parvati had been in a hurry hoping to meet her sister in between classes for something and had run on ahead of her boyfriend. Neville was waiting politely by the door for Hermione when Pansy suddenly turned on her.

'This is all your fucking fault, Mudblood bitch!' she hissed at the Head Girl.

Hermione went white and all sorts of things began to loosen up inside her stomach. 'I -' she began, but was uncertain how she would have actually followed that opening remark even if Pansy had not immediately rushed into a venomous attack with absolutely no regard for Hermione's attempt to answer her.

'If you would have done what I asked you at the beginning of the year, I could have stopped this before it happened!' Pansy ranted. 'But no, the prissy little virgin Head Girl had to have scruples. I'm not spying, she said! Did you even know there was someone in there? Right next door to your filthy virginal little Mudblood self? I fucking hate you. You're a waste of the air in this school' She snapped and stormed out of the greenhouse with fresh tears running down her face. She shoved past Neville so hard that he toppled back into several clay plant pots sending them crashing to the ground and shattering into tiny pieces.

Hermione clasped a hand over her frantically racing heart, positively shaking in reaction, with only one thought running through her head; She doesn't know! She hasn't got a clue! Finally she managed to search out Neville in an effort to determine how much he had overheard, but found herself instead looking straight into the dark eyes of the quiet Slytherin boy, Zabini, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere again, and was watching her thoughtfully.

They stared at each other for an eternal moment, until he offered carefully, 'Sorry about that, Granger. Pansy's a bit on edge today. I wouldn't take anything she says too seriously. I'll try and calm her down a bit before dinner tonight.' Then he turned and silently disappeared after his housemate.

Hermione shook her head; this day was just getting too surreal for her - but then what could she expect - she had started it in Draco Malfoy's - Malfoy's!- bed, after all! She collected her book bag and went to help Neville brush the soil off his robes. 'What in the name of Merlin was all that about, Mione?' he asked baffled as they began walking back to the castle. 'Are the Slytherins trying to force you into doing something you don't want to do?'

Hermione couldn't help shaking her head at the irony of that statement. If only poor Neville knew exactly how much she did want to do whatever a certain Slytherin had desired. 'No, nobody's forcing me to do anything, Nev,' she said squeezing his arm affectionately through his robes. 'But if I do ever find out what's going on, I'll let you know.'


	34. Chapter 34

Pansy seemed calmer at lunch, although given Draco's volatile overreaction to him the previous evening, Blaise deemed it wise not to approach the Head Boy quite just yet to try and smooth things over. It was plainly obvious anyway that her surface calm was not the product of a rational mind, but was merely covering up one which was frantically trying to produce a new and riskier plot to capture Malfoy.

Draco sat in what Blaise privately called the Hot Seat, to all intents and purposes making himself available to the general populace of the school. Blaise allowed his eyes to roam thoughtfully over to the Gryffindor table, and found the Head Girl positioned similarly. Currently she was talking to a young Hufflepuff; as Blaise watched she reached over and patted the girl's hand, smiling encouragingly at her. The girl bobbed her head enthusiastically and made her way smiling back to the Hufflepuff table. Her place was almost immediately taken by another younger student who was treated with the same grace and attention by the Head Girl.

Blaise tried to find something in Hermione Granger's demeanor which might suggest that she was suffering from any unusual or unexpected stress at all, but she appeared unchanged from the previous week. For the first time since he had spoken to Draco in the Prefect's Office, Blaise began to doubt his conclusions. He knew that Granger was made of different stuff from the Slytherins; he was convinced that something like sleeping with Malfoy should have brought about some kind of shift in the girl's mannerisms. Surely there was no way that one of those loyal, brave, straight as an arrow Gryffindors could lie with the 'enemy' without it showing on their face. Maybe Draco had performed an obliviate on her? Or maybe he had been wrong after all, and it wasn't Granger.

He looked back to his table, only to find that Draco was staring fixedly at him, apparently perfectly aware of where his own gaze had been resting minutes before. Draco narrowed his eyes and swung them thoughtfully towards the Gryffindor table as if simply checking what Blaise might have been looking at.

Shit,

but this was getting messy! Blaise had never any desire to get on the wrong side of Malfoy; he was far too fond of the easy life to want to turn someone that powerful against him. He would have to think very carefully how to salvage the situation whilst still trying to contain Pansy's malice.His musings were interrupted by a sudden nervous silence at the table which was soon explained by the fact that the Head of Slytherin had left his seat at the High Table and was currently approaching with purpose in his step. Professor Snape halted briefly beside Draco, and invited smoothly,

'Mr Malfoy, I would like a word with you. Please arrive early for class this afternoon,' before gliding on his way, his teaching robes billowing out behind him.

Those students close enough to have heard Snape's silkily issued invitation immediately began to cast each other worried glances. It was quite one thing to regard Draco as a hero for his sexual exploits in the privacy of the common room, but when their unpredictable Head of House began to show an interest in the situation, it could only mean that things were going to start getting uncomfortable in Slytherin.

Draco tried not to let a frown settle on his face; Snape had been inordinately relaxed this year, although anyone outside of Slytherin would barely have noticed it. Draco, who was very observant, had put this down to the fact that at last a member of his own house had been rewarded with something over the Gryffindors; that Draco had finally managed to beat Potter at Quidditch had been icing on the cake as far as Snape was concerned. Well, - that, and the largely unknown fact that Professor Snape had taken himself a lover.

Draco had a sudden fear that his escapade last night was going to put paid to the much pleasanter atmosphere which had pervaded their House so far this term, and he certainly didn't want his contribution to the Slytherin 7th form yearbook to read; Draco Malfoy, Stupid Git, He ruined Snape's good mood! He hadn't paused earlier during Muggle Studies to wonder how Snape had learnt of Pansy's volcano, or what it meant, but all of a sudden the thought that Snape might know everything including the identity of the witch concerned, made his stomach heave unpleasantly.

He pushed away the last of his lunch suddenly not very hungry; since Potions was the next class, he might as well head straight on down to the dungeons and get this over and done with. He allowed himself one last quick look at Hermione to give himself courage and found her laughing at something one of the other Gryffindorks had said to her, a sight which did nothing to settle his churning stomach and only served to make him jealous that he did not have the freedom to casually tell her jokes which would made her eyes sparkle and her mouth curve up into the beautiful smile she was wearing now.

He stomped out of the Great Hall aware that Zabini was still watching him, but unconcerned for the moment.

He found Professor Snape in the classroom, dictating instructions onto the board with his wand. Despite the Professor's contempt for foolish wand waving he was considerably better at it than most. 'Ah, Mr Malfoy,' Snape said as he became aware of Draco's presence. The wand stopped moving and hovered in the air waiting. 'Please come in and shut the door.'

Draco did as he was bid, moving to stand before Snape's desk. The Professor moved to the other side of the desk and settled into his chair, motioning Draco to seat himself also. 'Why do you suppose I wish to speak with you today, Mr Malfoy?' Snape asked, steepling his fingers in front of him and watching Draco over the tips.

'Well, I would imagine it's about what happened over the weekend, Sir,' Draco replied. He would be damned if he would let the older man intimidate him. 'I figured out that you had heard about it during Muggle Studies this morning.'

'Exactly so,' Snape agreed. 'However, I have decided against telling the Headmaster about what happened as I do not believe it reflects well on either yourself or Miss Parkinson. It has been several years since Slytherin House has been in the good standing we currently enjoy, thanks to your election as Head Boy.' He did not continue, but Draco could hear the implied words hovering in the air between them, Not since Potter came here....

Draco sat up straighter in his chair. 'Thank you, Sir.' He replied. 'I do know that you were highly instrumental in recommending me for this position, and I don't intend to let you down...'

Snape pursed his lips. 'That's as maybe, Mr Malfoy,' he said. 'However, if Professor Dumbledore had not first nominated your name to the short list, I fear there is nothing that one such as myself could have said nor done to sway the vote in your favour. In the past year I have watched you turn yourself around from a nasty whining, spoilt brat who expected everything to be handed to him on a silver plate, into quite a promising young man. I would hate to see you backsliding. Am I making myself clear?'

Whilst he had winced at Professor Snape's less than flattering character analysis, Draco was also quite simply stunned to hear that the Headmaster had nominated him as a candidate; given his behaviour in the past he would have thought the old coot would have been pleased to see him fail in his attempt to reinvent himself, rather than try to assist him. He nodded quickly when Snape seemed to be expecting a response.

'I am going to ensure that Miss Parkinson does not make any further attempts to curtail or invade your personal life,' Professor Snape continued, 'However, I expect that any future sexual encounters you may chose to indulge in will be undertaken with the utmost discretion. I don't imagine I need to remind you that one of the many expectations of the Head Boy and Girl -' Draco's heart nearly leapt out of his throat at Snape's casual pairing of their names together - 'is that they are guardians of moral behaviour here in Hogwarts, and should be setting an example for the whole school.' Oh, Merlin, he knows! He Knows! 'Whilst the staff realises that it is virtually impossible to keep hormonal teenagers apart every minute of the day, inappropriate public displays and being caught in the act is simply unacceptable for those who have been gifted with the benefits of authority.'

Thanks only to years of training from his father, Draco managed to maintain a calm façade; his mind was racing and his heartbeat was so fast he could barely hear what the older man was saying above its thumping in his ears. He did remember however, to avoid making eye contact with Professor Snape, mindful that he was far too unnerved to keep the man out of his mind if he chose to try and penetrate for Draco's memories of last night. Draco was trying to decide whether this was simply the general warning which it appeared on the surface or if Snape was making deeper and more subtle references to the identity of Draco's partner. As a result he missed the first few words of Professor Snape's next sentence.

'.....Headmaster on his House unity campaign. I had thought it wise to separate you and Miss Granger for the rest of this project, but I am forced to admit that academically you are well matched; the work you have turned in together has been the best I have ever seen from either of you. An opinion which I expect that you will not share with Miss Granger. I do not believe in intruding on my student's private lives as long as they stay that way - private. However, given the events of the past weekend I feel compelled to ask you whether this is over and done with now or is it the start of something which may cause repeated disturbances within Slytherin?'

Repeated disturbances?

Draco rather admired the subtle understatement of Snape's words. Oh yes, he could quite easily see the occurrence of repeated disturbances if ever Hermione's identity was revealed. But he found he couldn't lie about what had happened to him, however he tried to answer as ambiguously as possible for he was still unsure as to whether Snape had all the facts yet. 'I don't believe there will be any more reactions such as the one on Saturday night,' he said cautiously. 'The object which Pansy charmed destroyed itself in the process of performing it's function. The - relationship which caused it to activate is - new -'Snape studied the Head Boy, 'New and serious?' he questioned meaningfully.

Draco held his gaze for a long moment trying to read any emotion in the older man, but came up blank. He sighed. The truth then, 'Yes - very.' He admitted finally.

Snape nodded once, seemingly oddly pleased with the answer. 'Very well, in that case I have just one more thing I am going to say to you now. I do not know, nor do I have any wish to know, who it is that you were with this weekend. If, as you say, you have finally found someone you care deeply for, make perfectly sure that Miss Granger does not catch you in any compromising positions in your quarters. I expect you to be the very definition of discretion; do not do anything which might give the Head Girl reason for suspicion - or even worse confirmation - of an act which could end up with you being stripped of your badge,' he finished.

'That will be all, Mr Malfoy,' Snape added brusquely when it appeared that Draco had frozen in place in his seat. Draco leapt quickly to his feet and reached for the Professor's hand, shaking it hard and vigorously. All he could grasp from the outcome of this conversation was that they were still undetected. Professor Snape tugged his hand away from the Head Boy's thorough shaking and flexed his crushed fingers. 'Very well, then. I suggest you go to your seat and take advantage of the extra minutes to begin writing down today's notes. The rest of the class will be here shortly.'

It finally dawned on Draco that she would be here; in mere moments Hermione would be with him again. He felt ridiculously like a 2nd year in the grip of his first crush. He could feel his palms getting sweaty and his heart was thundering so fast he was amazed that Snape couldn't hear it. Wonderful, excellent, clever Snape for partnering them together and giving him the perfect opportunity to be with her in public! He flung himself down at the table which had become their usual workspace, thankful that the vindictive side of the Potions Master had made him send Hermione to sit with Draco at the back of the room, isolated from the other students. He hadn't been so lucky in Transfiguration; McGonagall had planted them near the front where she could better keep an eye on the Slytherin.

Soon enough the noises of arriving students were heard outside of the classroom. Draco's bubble was burst forcefully at the sight of Hermione walking in chatting happily to Anthony Goldstein, the bastard. For a heart-on-your-sleeve Gryffindor, she certainly seemed to be doing a lot better than him at the whole pretending nothing had happened game. Goldstein squeezed her arm sympathetically as she turned away from him and made her way towards Draco's desk at the back of the class, and Draco felt the surge of angry magic flood his fingertips at the action. He sat on his hands, but Snape had obviously also felt the charge in the air for he unerringly turned to Draco and frowned thoughtfully.

Whoops. Nearly screwed up again, and it's only day one! Need to get a better grip on this jealousy thing; admittedly a difficult task for poor Draco who had never actually experienced it before. And then she was there, right in front of him. Draco simply stared, at a loss for words.

'Malfoy,' she hissed eventually. 'Are you going to shift over so I can sit down, or not?'

The fortuitous use of his last name when he had been lost in his memories of her sobbing, 'Draco, oh God, Draco!' underneath him as she climaxed in his arms last night, managed to bring him back to a sense of his surroundings, and he pinned a derisive smirk on his face which he knew didn't quite reach his eyes, and retorted. 'Nah, I don't think so, Granger. You can sit round the other side today!'

He caught Snape sending him a warning scowl which clearly said 'Make nice with her!' from the lectern and congratulated himself on his fumbled save of the situation. Hermione simply snorted her displeasure although her eyes were downcast and hidden under her lashes, and marched around to take the seat on his right.

Immediately he could feel the heat of her body and the undeniable effect it was having on his own; if he had found these partnered classes uncomfortable before the past weekend, it was nothing compared to how distracting he found her presence at his side now that he knew how she tasted, how she sounded in the grip of passion.

He had never found it so hard to concentrate in a class before and it didn't help to watch her quill flying across the page as if she hadn't a concern in the world. Who would have ever thought that little Miss Perfection would be better at the lies and deception than the Prince of Slytherin himself?

It wasn't until Hermione stuck her hand up to answer a question posed by Snape that Draco felt brave enough to turn and look at her, and immediately wished he had done so earlier for he discovered that her eyes were fixed glassily on the board and that her fringe was sticking damply to her forehead as if she were sweating nervously. She even breathed a sigh of relief when Snape - as usual - did not call upon her to answer, and Draco realised that the arm waving had all been for effect. He allowed his eyes to scan her parchment quickly and found that there was nothing but gibberish written there, although doodled carefully in the margin was his name surrounded by swirls and curlicues and little flowers, and his heart took another unplanned leap up into his throat, so that he had to stare very hard at the desk to prevent anyone else seeing the foolish smile which spread across his features. They would obviously have to come to some kind of agreement or neither of the Head students would get any work done, and end up failing the whole year in disgrace.

As Hermione's hand fell back into her lap when Snape called on Padma Patil to answer the question, Draco allowed his right hand to creep slowly over under cover of the desk and their robes, and catch a hold of hers. She jumped almost imperceptibly in her seat, but managed not to turn and look at him, only acknowledging his action by the returning pressure of her own fingers as she allowed them to entwine with his. They sat thus until the end of the period and oddly enough, although the touch of her skin caused a definite pressure in the front of his uniform, the contact seemed to finally stabilise his thoughts and he managed to return his attention to the class; he thought Hermione's concentration seemed similarly improved. Good thing he had been a jerk when she arrived this afternoon, making her sit in the other seat. Good thing he was left handed. He resolved to sit on this side for all the rest of the classes they shared together.

***********

Hermione gathered her books together with shaking hands when Professor Snape dismissed the class. She had thankfully caught sight of her artistic faux-pas as she rolled her parchment up and vanished it quickly with her wand. Had Draco seen, she wondered? Did he know she was doodling his name on her notes like a love-struck 2nd year? Merlin, let him not have seen it! Her hand actually felt cold and empty from the loss of his own as they had to separate and present their usual image to the world.

They were moving to DaDa next, a class they both obviously took, but which contained also Harry, Ron, Blaise Zabini and a host of other people who could never be allowed to catch them feeling less than intense dislike for each other. He had confused her horribly with something as simple as holding her hand; Draco Malfoy was not a demonstrative person. Everyone knew this as readily as they knew of his sexual exploits; despite the number of witches his name had been linked to, he had never been seen walking around the castle holding hands with any one of them, nor sitting casually with an arm around some girl's shoulders. He did not flaunt his conquests nor acknowledge them openly like most of the boys in school. Harry and Ginny were often to be seen cuddling in between classes, and they rarely went anywhere together if they weren't hand in hand. Even shy Neville had come out of his shell and could be seen submitting to PDA's from Parvati. It was a trend prevalent in all the Houses, not merely her own.

But not with Draco Malfoy; she had supposed before this year, if she had ever spared the time to consider it at all, that it had been that whole we're better-than-anyone-else Malfoy pomposity which had prevented him from behaving like a normal teenage boy, but from where she was standing today, nervous and confused, she couldn't help but wonder why no one had ever seen him out with a girl.

She just wished she knew what was going on inside his head....Hell, at the moment she would have settled for knowing what was going on inside her own!! She couldn't walk to DaDa with him; that would be totally out of character, so heaving a sigh she turned her back to him and quickly caught up with Tony Goldstein. She was quite pleased that she had done so well in acting like nothing had happened between them; she would never have believed herself capable of it this morning. It all went to show what the human spirit could produce when under pressure.

She was completely unaware of the murderous glance which followed her exit from the class with the Ravenclaw prefect. Professor Snape caught the tail end of it however, as he turned from clearing the board just as Draco passed by his desk. 'Mr Malfoy,' he warned, 'I suggest you don't glower at the Head Girl in that manner. It is the choice which has been made and you need to live with it.'

For the first time that day, Draco managed to think about something that wasn't Hermione, and oddly enough it was to be surprised that Snape was so totally off base in his assumptions about Draco's feelings for the Head Girl. He had always regarded Professor Snape as perceptive and insightful, yet his observations today had been so wildly far off the mark that Draco couldn't help wondering if he had overestimated the older man. He smiled his first genuine smile of the day. 'I'm sorry, Sir,' he said calmly. 'I promise I will try to see the Head Girl in a new light from now on.' I think candlelight and us totally naked might be a good place to start...

He followed Hermione and the treacherous Ravenclaw to DaDa at a discreet distance, admiring the sway of her hips and the way all that glorious wild hair of hers bounced on her shoulders as she walked; there was some benefit to trailing behind her in this manner after all. And it was some small comfort that Goldstein also lost her as soon as they reached the classroom for she immediately defected to Potter's side and settled herself between him and Longbottom to await the arrival of Remus Lupin, who had returned to teach in 6th year once Draco's own father was out of the way and unable to lead a protest against his reinstatement. Secretly, Draco found him to be an excellent teacher, but Merlin forbid he ever admit to it out loud.

Draco calculated he probably had at most five or six hours to get through before he could see her alone in the Study, and approach her to amend the seating plan minutely for Pansy's maximum embarrassment. Unfortunately since it was Monday, there was a Prefect meeting to be fitted in some time this evening also. Not a prospect he was particularly looking forward to, as Pansy was still the 7th year Slytherin Prefect, and would have to attend unrestrained by Zabini - who seemed to have decided to try and monitor her for some odd reason which escaped Draco.

He had not missed hearing Professor Snape say that he intended to deal with Pansy, but Draco's own pride refused to let him abdicate the responsibility for dealing with her infraction to another, even if it was the Head of their House.

Actually, he thought hopefully, with a bit of luck he might catch Hermione in the Library before the dinner hour even, and possibly persuade her into a heated snogging session in the Restricted Section where no one could disturb them without a pass from one of the teachers. He felt immediately more cheerful at this plan, which meant he really only had about ninety minutes before he could get her alone again. Merlin, he had it so bad!

Lupin arrived and immediately paired everyone up to begin practicing disarming hexes on each other; evidently he hadn't gotten the memo which declared that the Head Boy and Girl were to be partners in all classes. He directed Draco to work with Parvati and Hermione to pair up with Terry Boot. Well, Draco consoled himself, at least it wasn't Goldstein.

The class passed quickly; it wasn't a good idea to allow your attention to wander when hexes were flying freely around the classroom and Draco felt confident to say that it was probably the first time that day that his thoughts had stayed focused on something other than Hermione for longer than 10 minutes at a time. How are the mighty fallen that he could consider this the crowning achievement of his day.

He watched surreptitiously as Hermione left the room flanked by Potter and Weasley, with Longbottom and his own class partner trailing in their wake. Vince and Greg, whom Lupin had paired with each other obviously in an effort to save the rest of the students from disaster, were still attempting to retrieve Vince's wand from the chandelier where Greg had sent it in one of his attempts to summon it to himself. Sighing, Draco accio'ed it down and placed it in Vince's hand. Both of the larger boys shuffled their feet and muttered faint apologies to which Draco shook his head and motioned them to follow him.

They were halfway back to the dungeons when Vince and Greg suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor and Greg spoke words which Draco had never imagined hearing from either of them. 'Ah, Draco - we were wondering if it would be all right with you if we just went to the library for a bit now?'

Draco was struck speechless, an uncomfortable state of affairs which up until this moment in time had only ever been brought about by the Head Girl. 'You want to go where?' he managed at last.

'Yeah, well we heard that there's a new book in there about Australia, and since I have to research Kangaroos, you know - I thought there might be some pictures in it I could look at -' Greg continued justifying his request, seemingly alarmed by Draco's uncharacteristic silence into thinking that he had asked for something forbidden.

Draco was hardly listening however; he had already started to analyse how his friends' sudden desire to partake in the academic facilities Hogwarts offered might facilitate his own plans for the afternoon. 'That's an excellent idea,' he agreed nodding to them. 'I'm pleased you're taking this seriously. We should be able to show Dumbledore that Slytherin can rise to any challenge he gives us.'

Vince nodded. 'You know what, Draco,' he muttered in a low confiding tone. 'Some of those books in the Muggle section are really interesting. My parents never told me that Muggles could do half the things they can. I would really love to drive a car one day; a Ferrari. A red one.'

Draco made an immediate mental note to find out what a Ferrari was. It simply would not do for Vincent Crabbe to know something he did not. He turned his feet in the direction of the library, noticing that his steps seemed much lighter now that he was on his way towards Hermione.

'Did you get a subject for the Social Night yet?' Greg asked as they made their way up the stairs.

Had he? Draco certainly hadn't been thinking about his invitation for the past 48 hours, his mind had been full of other things; curvaceous, soft, feminine Gryffindor things. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'I haven't looked since Friday. H - Granger suggested that our topic might be the actual organizing of the party. Maybe the staff of the Hotel will be testing to see how well it turns out.' It felt awkward talking about Hermione with the two other boys; all of a sudden he felt uncomfortable referring to her so impersonally, and he was sure the tone of his voice had changed entirely as he mentioned her.

Luckily neither of his companions seemed to notice anything amiss. Greg nodded and after casting a quick glance around to check that they were alone he lowered his voice to a whisper as Vincent had done so recently and confided to Draco. 'She's not so bad either, is she? I mean, she was real helpful to us last week when we asked her if she'd ever been to Australia, talked to us real polite - you know - as if we'd never done mean things to her in the past.'

Draco found himself at a loss for words again. The other boys gave him an odd look as if they were expecting a reply, and he finally realised that whatever he chose to say now might possibly be the most influential words he spoke in his whole life. They had opened their eyes and seen beyond the classic doctrines which their house and their families had emphasized for the whole of their lives, and they were tentatively asking for him to confirm that it was okay.

That it was Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe who were the first Slytherins to openly question centuries of pureblood propaganda and tradition was something which Draco found at the same time both incredible and yet fitting. Sure their outward appearance gave the impression that they were little more than inbred muscle from somewhere near the bottom of the gene pool, but once he had spared the effort to get to know them personally Draco had found that their friendship had its own rewards. They would definitely never challenge him mentally but that was one of the things which made Hermione so sexy to him; her ability to match up to him in so many areas. Crabbe and Goyle's friendship was more soothing, he never felt he had to compete with them - they were probably the only people in Hogwarts who actually accepted him without any expectations.

He wanted, he really did, to say the right thing to the boys about Muggles and Purebloods and the political standpoint of the Dark Lord, but all mixed in with the bigger questions which needed answering here, was the fact that he was standing here having just shagged the Head Girl's brains out - or more accurately perhaps, let her shag his brain out - something he didn't dare expose to the predominantly unrepentant portion of Slytherin House. He really had no idea how to answer fairly without prejudicing himself.

Greg and Vince were still waiting for his response, and in fact were beginning to look worried that they had made a mistake by asking in the first place. He really had to find something to say quickly and ambiguously so as to reassure them without giving away his personal involvement. 'I think that the Governors made a good choice for Head Girl this year,' he decided on finally. 'I am sure Granger would never turn away any student who approached her for help, no matter which House he came from.'

Greg nodded sagely and Vince suddenly broke into cackles of laughter which caused Draco to give him a concerned look. 'Greg fancies her,' he confided to Draco when he could contain himself, causing the other boy's round face to flush bright red, and received a sharp whack to the back of his head as a result.

'I do not,' Greg muttered defensively. 'I just said I thought she looked pretty in that costume at the Halloween Ball.'

Vince hooted. 'Hell, all the guys in the school thought she looked pretty in that costume, Greggers,' he taunted. 'Who knew she was hiding all that under her prissy little Gryffindor robes? But the rest of us weren't moaning her name in their sleep like you did the following week! Oh! Her-mi-oneeee...!'

'Vincent Crabbe. You said you'd never mention that to a living soul!' Greg hissed, poking the other boy fiercely in his shoulder with his wand.

'Hey! It's just Draco,' Vince objected, pushing the wand away. 'He would have heard you himself if he wasn't Head Boy and got his own room! Tell him, Draco!' he added for emphasis, turning to their friend and wondering why he was so silent.

Draco had his eyes shut. This had to be a nightmare, surely. He could not possibly have just heard Vincent Crabbe tell him that Gregory Goyle of all people had a crush on his girl. Could things possibly get any worse? 'Draco - are you all right?' Vince's suddenly concerned voice cut into his musings and he took a deep breath before opening his eyes and training a fierce glare on both boys.

'No, I'm not all right.' Draco snapped. 'This conversation did not happen, I don't want to hear another word about you and Granger, Greg! Not another murmur, not a whisper! I certainly don't want to know you've been entertaining dirty little fantasies about m - about her in your bed at night!'

The other boys were quiet for a moment, taken aback by his sudden virulence when Draco had been so happy moments earlier. Vince was thinking hard, a process which was visible by the lines of concentration etched onto his face. 'So you're saying it's okay to talk to her about school and stuff, but you don't reckon we should be thinking about dating Muggle girls, then?' he concluded after much rumination.

Draco wanted to rip his hair out. Sometimes talking to them was like pulling teeth. 'No; what I think is that if you want to paddle around in the gene pool you should start at the shallow end.' They stared blankly. 'Date all the Muggle girls you want; just not the Head Girl, okay?' He stated clearly enough to leave no doubt of his meaning. 'Oh, forget it - let's just get to the library and see to your Kangaroo book.' Library...Hermione.... 'Just how did you hear there was a new book in the library anyway?' He asked, finally catching the inconsistency in this picture.

'Ah, well - Granger suggested we ask Pince to send us an owl when the book came in; she got it loaned from the library in Diagon Alley..' Greg trailed off hesitantly as Draco's face darkened again. 'Look, Draco - we know you've just got together with a new girl and all that,' he mumbled, deciding that he may as well really push the boat out, 'And we know you're really pissed at Pansy, and you should be too, but it isn't Granger's fault, and we - I think you should try and be nicer to her!' He finished in a rush before his nerve failed him. 'Don't hurt me!' he added suddenly in a high pitched squeak when Draco didn't respond.

'I'm not going to hurt you, Greg,' Draco sighed wondering if everyone in Hogwarts was in a conspiracy to try and revise his hypothetically bad opinion of Hermione Granger. They would probably all choke on their tongues if they had any idea of his actual opinion of the Head Girl! 'You are just the second person today to tell me to make more of an effort with He - Granger, and I am a little shocked to say the least. Okay? Now let's go and do this -'

'You don't have to come if you don't want to,' Vince put in helpfully, 'We're getting the hang of this library thing now, you know. We've been twice in the past week!'

There was absolutely no way that Draco was going to let these two get near Hermione this evening without him. He actually snorted at the idea. 'No, I'll come with you. I should start getting to know her better apparently.' They looked alarmed. 'I'm joking! I have to talk to her about some business for the Social Evening, as it happens, so it will be a good idea to go with you. Come on, then.'


	35. Chapter 35

As Hermione left the DaDa classroom she breathed a sigh of relief. The first day was over, and she had survived it! The skirmish with Pansy after Herbology had turned out to be the only minor disturbance; just the other girl finding a scapegoat to vent her pain upon. Hermione felt almost giddy when she considered how much worse it could have been. She had forcefully impressed upon Neville that there was no need to tell Harry and Ron about Pansy's blow-up, and so far he seemed to have respected her wishes because the boys were not getting all huffy and defensive as they usually did when they decided the Slytherins were plotting against them. So far their suspicions of this morning had not led them to suppose that whatever was wrong in the other house would directly affect them; if Neville mentioned Pansy's melt down after Herbology, that could all change very quickly.

Harry apologized for abandoning her, but said they had the Quidditch pitch booked, and since it was getting dark so early they had to run and get the best use of the remaining daylight. Hermione was happy to send them off and make her way to the library; she felt a need to try and make sense of today's notes, particularly from Potions where Draco's proximity had turned her brain to mush, and resulted in absolute gibberish flowing from her quill. She still could hardly believe that the dismal offering which glared back at her from her parchment could actually be a product of her own hand.

As the boys scuttled off to collect their brooms, Hermione made her way slowly towards the library. She wasn't at all sure what to expect next from this incredible development. Draco had made no attempt to explain why he had suddenly chosen to ignore years of animosity; his parting from her this morning had implied (at least in Hermione's treacherous mind) that he was not treating the experience as a just one night stand. Or a two night stand. Well, certainly as something which might happen again.

Did she really want to continue with something which had never been defined? There was no denying that together they were incendiary, even with as limited experience as she had, she could recognise that the passion which flared between them was uncommon. But could something which burned so bright last beyond the initial spark? Should she just let the lust take its course, and put it down to experience, or should she try and talk it out with him, push him to confess exactly what it was that he perceived they were doing, and as a consequence maybe lose the opportunity to experience it again?

For the first time in her life Hermione thought she might actually be intending to accept something without understanding it; she had a horrible suspicion that she really, really wasn't ready to admit to herself just exactly what had happened to her this weekend.

There was a Monday Prefect's Meeting tonight, and she absolutely had to get her thoughts in line before she had to sit in a room which contained Pansy, Ron and Draco, trying to look like nothing had changed!

She had reached the library subconsciously, her steps taking her to her usual table in the far corner where she was less easily disturbed by students who seemed totally unable to read the signs which asked for Quiet Please, let alone the actual words printed in the books. She spread her papers in front of her and tried to extract Snape's homework assignment from the scribble which comprised her notes for the lesson.

Unfortunately, what she actually discovered was that she had managed to doodle Draco's name twice more in the midst of a woefully incomplete list of the properties of dried dragonfly wings. In a fit of temper she burnt his name from both places with the end of her wand, leaving two black scorch marks on her parchment, and immediately she had done this, she leant over and hit her forehead on the smooth wooden surface of the table, moaning aloud.

It was in this position that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle discovered her.

'Uh - Granger,' one of them began, and she groaned as she straightened up. The boys were trying hard this year; she had to give them credit for that - they had seemed remarkably eager to obtain her help on the discussion topic for the Social evening, and despite their House she had felt unable to turn them away. Wasn't this what Dumbledore wanted, after all?

'Hey, guys,' she responded, pushing a hand through her hair which seemed to have escaped it's confines and bushed out all over the place in just the few moments she had been resting her head against the table. She turned towards them and found herself staring straight into a pair of bright silvery grey eyes. The rest of her greeting froze on her tongue, as she burned from the heat in his gaze.

Luckily, her brief salutation was perfectly adequate for Crabbe and Goyle, who were not much prone to trivial conversation anyway (hence, she supposed, Dumbledore's attempt to broaden horizons with this Social evening) . They sat down opposite her and immediately launched into the purpose of their visit, rambling happily on about the book which they had just obtained from Madam Pince, whilst Hermione and Draco simply stared at each other, oblivious.

'Restricted Section, ten minutes,' Draco finally mouthed to her over Crabbe's (or was it Goyle's?) head, and then turned away to disappear into the aforementioned area of the library. Released from the distraction of his presence, Hermione was finally able to give her attention back to the other boys. She took some index cards from her satchel and tried to explain to them how to make notes of the most salient points onto the cards as a memory aid, which would be convenient to slip into a pocket for confidence on the night. Vincent and Gregory seemed uncommonly fascinated with the brightly colored lined cards, and Hermione thought sadly that it was a shame so few purebloods were allowed exposure to Muggle ingenuity.

It took her twenty minutes to deal with their questions and convince them that their efforts would be more than adequate for them to get a passing mark on the subject. When they finally stood up from her desk and made to leave the library, Crabbe looked around searchingly and asked, 'Where did Malfoy get off to? I thought he was going to wait for us.'

Gregory scanned the room and shrugged. 'Don't know, Vinny,' he muttered. 'Maybe he had stuff to do. I'm not sure he's too comfortable about us talking to you, Granger,' he added looking at Hermione, who was fighting very hard to keep a flush from her face. 'But he's okay when you get to know him, so you should give him a chance, you know. What with you both being the Head Students and all. It might be nice if you could try and be more friendly - don't you think?'

Tongue tied, Hermione couldn't do much more than nod in response. 'I think the Headmaster would like that,' she managed eventually which made them both smile brightly as they lumbered off to wherever they intended to spend the rest of the evening. She wondered why they hadn't bothered to ask her who they would be sitting next to, as all of the other 7th years seemed to be obsessed with the desire to find out this one piece of information. Maybe Draco had already told his class mates, although she didn't think he would; or maybe the two big Slytherin boys were just more into the spirit of the exercise than the whole of the rest of the 7th year put together?

Hermione didn't move from her desk; her body was screaming at her to run and grab Draco but her brain was advising caution - telling her that she needed to know what was happening between them before she could give in to the demands of her newly awakened libido. Well, come to think of it, the library was probably the safest place to approach a discussion between them; at least they would be unable to give in to rampaging hormones in the middle of such a public place. Even being seen talking could give rise to all sorts of gossip, so there was no chance of being tempted into anything further. Pleased with this deductive line of reasoning, Hermione gave in to the overwhelming desire to go and find Draco again.

She left her books on the desk, and taking only a parchment which she held up to her face to give the impression that she was searching for a book mentioned thereon, she casually made her way to the Restricted Section, unhitching the rope across the entrance and tidily replacing it after herself.

She moved slowly along the aisles, her heartbeat accelerating with every step. The air in this part of the library was kept artificially cool by charms, and there were no windows, as many of the books were so old and delicate that harsh sunlight and sudden fluctuations in temperature could cause irreparable damage to their ancient pages. Students were only allowed to use them if in possession of a signed pass, and there was a list of titles which could only be touched when wearing special cotton gloves dispensed by Madam Pince, for the acids present in human sweat would dissolve the parchment on contact. The only two students who were fully exempt from the signed pass rule were the Head Students, and in the previous term, 6th year Hermione Granger had been honored by her inclusion to that exclusive number.

Today however, Hermione felt she was entering the Restricted Section searching for something far more dangerous than all the information contained between the covers of so many of these volumes. Although she had been expecting it, she was still startled when an arm shot out from behind one of the shelves near the very back of the area and she was dragged down the aisle until she was pressed against the very back wall of the library.

Despite the turmoil of shock, fear and (admit it, Hermione) - lust flowing through her veins, she managed to be impressed that the formerly obnoxious ferret had sufficient respect for the books to know that pinning her against the shelves could be very harmful to them, and managing to avoid this.

'What took you so long?' He growled into her ear, and the heat of his breath caused goosebumps to raise all along her arms.

'I - I was helping your friends,' she muttered in response trying to focus on a point over his shoulder so that she wouldn't look into his eyes and forget her own name. It was seductively dark and private back here in the depths of the library, and although her common sense told her that other students and even the librarian were only yards away, the atmospheric charms and dampeners placed around this section always made it seem isolated from the rest of the room in some odd way. Everything always seemed muffled when you were in here, and Hermione wondered for the first time if there were silencing charms cast over this area, too.

'Yeah, I know. They were singing your praises all the way up here. When did that happen?' He replied, and he was definitely nearer now. She could feel the heat of his body hovering mere millimeters away from full contact with her own. She gulped, trying to retain control of the situation. If she let him touch her now, her whole plan would be down the tubes. She turned her head at the last second, grimacing as his mouth grazed her neck instead. 'Granger?' he muttered puzzled, and she knew he was still thinking fairly clearly because the last two nights he had forgotten that she was Granger and he was Malfoy, moaning out Mina to her as he came inside her when he was equally lost to passion as she had been.

'What is this, Malfoy?' she asked, head still turned away from him. 'Do you know what's happening to us, because I really don't.' He sighed and his hands which had been pinning her shoulders back, released her and skimmed down her arms until his fingers found hers and curled around them. He leant forwards bringing his body in full length contact with her own and rested his forehead against the wall above her left shoulder.

Hermione was barely conscious of how readily she relaxed into him, welcoming the weight of him and automatically adjusting her stance so that their legs slipped between each others and their hands clasped together. 'No, I don't,' Draco replied to her question, although he had some frightening suspicions he couldn't give voice to yet. 'But I think it's been coming for quite a while. Maybe even longer than we realise. I know I've been fighting it for most of this term, and I can't do that anymore now because it's obviously not going to go away.'

Hearing Draco put into words exactly what she had been feeling herself brought some sense of relief to Hermione. She was not upset to hear that he had been fighting against giving in to this - thing - which had sprung up between them. Hadn't she been living in denial for months herself, also? Maybe it was simply one of those things that you just had to do in your life, and then it would be over as suddenly and incomprehensibly as it had started. At least it seemed that it truly wasn't some kind of scheme to embarrass and humiliate her; a thought that had intruded into her mind on more than one occasion since that first kiss on the Quidditch stands, and had not really been put to rest until this very moment. However, she genuinely believed now that Draco was as confused and disoriented by what was happening between them as she was herself, and that made everything just a little easier to cope with.

'So should we just let it keep happening or are we going to -' she began, and Draco lifted his head from its resting place against the wall, letting go of one of her hands so he could catch hold of her chin and force her face around to look at him.

'Look at us, Granger,' he whispered. 'I don't think letting it happen is exactly the phrase you're looking for!' And she realised he was right; they were curled as tightly together as it was possible to get in an upright fully clothed position. Draco was hard against her stomach and she was subconsciously riding the leg which had slipped between her own. Whilst her mind had been trying to make some sense of this her body had acted on its own and gone after what it wanted.

She let out a defeated whimper and reached up for his mouth with her own. His hand let go of her chin and curled around into the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her still so that he could thoroughly ravage the inside of her mouth with his tongue until she was clinging weakly to him, her breath coming in sharp pants. Finally, reluctantly and desperately slowly she pulled away from him turning her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder, her nose nuzzling into his neck, one hand coming up to absently play with his Slytherin tie.

'We can't do this here,' she panted at last. 'It's restricted, but someone could still catch us.'

'I know,' he replied, equally breathless. 'Actually, I did also need to change something about the seating plan for the Social Evening, but that's another thing we can't talk about where someone could overhear us. Can I explain why after the Prefect Meeting tonight?'

Hermione nodded, unwilling to move even though they had both admitted they were taking a risk. 'We - actually there's another thing we need to talk about,' she muttered into his shoulder. God, he smells so good! He made an encouraging noise and she continued, somewhat distracted by the thoughts which had blossomed from that sudden revelation. 'Oh, - yes, - um, it's about Pansy Parkinson?'

She knew she had been right in thinking that the subject needed addressing when he tensed infinitesimally against her, and tightened his grip on her hand. 'Yes, well unfortunately that goes hand in hand with my issues over the seating plan.' He replied grimly, and she raised her head to look at him again as he spoke. He smiled thinly at her and brought her mouth to his in a brief but scorching kiss that threatened very quickly to get out of control.

Finally, breathing heavily, he stepped back from her and said. 'You better leave first. I just need to wait for certain things to calm down a bit before I'm fit to be seen again.' Hermione flushed and was unable to prevent herself from glancing down to his trousers, although it was too dim to see clearly she was fully aware that he was rock hard and thrusting against the confines of his uniform. He grinned at her quick glance and reached out for her arm as she turned quickly to hide her embarrassment at being caught looking there. 'Hey, Granger,' he whispered huskily. 'You can look all you like. In fact, better still, you can touch any time you want. Okay?' With these words he brought her hand down and pressed it firmly against the hot rigid length of him, at which action they both groaned simultaneously and he muttered hoarsely. 'Bad idea! Now it's going to take even longer before I can get out of here..'

Hermione fled.

********

They avoided each other until the beginning of the Prefect's Meeting, neither wanting to return to their study in case the other had the same idea, for they were both quite sure that to find themselves in a place where they were alone would only lead to things that shouldn't be started so close to their scheduled meeting time.

Hermione gathered up her books and fled the library to the Gryffindor Tower where she had to run the gamut of whispered questions from Neville about Pansy's erratic behaviour and why she didn't want Harry and Ron informing about it? Eventually the Gryffindor Quidditch team returned to the common room, and Hermione then had to weather several meaningful looks from Ginny before the younger girl finally went to her dormitory to remove the damp red uniform and get changed for dinner.

Hermione tried not to stare too hard at Draco sitting in his place at the head of the Slytherin table when she finally entered the Great Hall with Harry, Ginny, Neville and Ron in tow. As she took her own place in the Consulting Chair, as Ginny liked to teasingly call it, she began to wonder how long he had stayed in the Restricted Section, waiting for his obvious arousal to recede. Fast on the heels of this thought, another one occurred - maybe he hadn't simply waited! Maybe after she left he had taken the matter in hand, so to speak. She was quite sure that unlike her, Draco was absolutely no stranger to pleasing himself.

Great Merlin she thought now, blushing furiously, why had it only just occurred to her that he might have done that after she had left him alone. Of course now that the thought had occurred to her, she was unable to concentrate on anything else - anything at all - except the pictures she was creating in her mind of the Head Boy leaning back against that wall in the darkest part of the library, wanking himself off over her. Would he have released his penis she wondered, sinking deeper into her lustful fantasy, and fondled his erection until he ejaculated all over the floor, or mindful of the danger of discovery would he have stroked himself through the layers of clothing until he came in his shorts. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on her own suddenly aching sex, and a little moan slipped past her lips totally without her knowledge or permission.

Dean Thomas' voice cut through her erotic musings. 'Hermione - Hermione - are you okay? You look awfully hot, and you were just groaning. Are you going to be sick?'

Hermione came back to reality with a bump, and shuddered at what she had nearly given away. 'Uh, no - I'm fine, Dean,' she mumbled. 'I just have a bit of a headache, and I'm not much looking forward to the Prefect's Meeting tonight. I have a lot of homework to finish.'

As if on cue, Dumbledore stood and tapped his goblet with his wand demanding silence. 'I have only a couple of notices tonight,' he announced when the chattering had abated in the Hall. 'It is of course Monday, so the Prefects are expected to meet with Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger in the Prefect Office tonight and receive their assignments for the week. Mr Malfoy has asked that the time be brought forward to 7.00, so please make a note of this earlier hour. And onto other news, Madam Pince has asked me to inform you that she has received on loan from the Wizards Lending Library in Diagon Alley, a selection of Muggle books which might help some of you out with your research for our new Christmas tradition. That will be all, thank you for listening.'

********

Hermione found herself unable at this point to avoid returning to her room, as her files and schedules for the upcoming meeting were currently sitting on her bedside table, and would do her absolutely no good there. She waited until a young Slytherin boy approached Draco and made a few muttered excuses to her friends before making a quick escape to the Head students rooms. It was much closer to the Great Hall than going by way of the Gryffindor tower, and she planned to be in, collect her notes and be out through Godric's painting before Draco had even finished talking to that boy.

For once, Merlin seemed to be smiling on her plans. The only thing which occurred to delay her was an odd encounter with the painted founder of her house. Instead of passing a polite salutation and complimenting her again on her marks or her achievement as was his usual custom, Gryffindor gazed reproachfully at her and shook his head in disappointment. He didn't return her greeting, choosing instead to sigh and walk away to take a seat in the furthest corner of his painted room.

Hermione wasted precious moments trying to persuade him answer her, but finally pressed for time and concerned about her weak will-power, she was forced to give up trying to soothe his offended sensibilities and leave the room. What could she really say to justify herself anyway? There was no denying that she had almost shagged the poster boy for Slytherin values right up against the poor man's oil-based resting place. It was hardly surprising he refused to talk to her!

When she entered the Gryffindor common room, Ron was already complaining about the earlier time for the Prefect meeting, as it meant he had been unable to enjoy a third serving of dessert. Ginny was rolling her eyes at her brother as she gathered up Derrick Taylor the other 6th year prefect, and waited for the two new 5th year prefects, Joanna Waverly and Martin Hillier to join them. Ever since Hermione became Head Girl opposite that Bloody evil ferret-faced Slytherin, Ron had insisted that all the Gryffindor prefects walk to each meeting together to show solidarity and hopefully intimidate the dismal choice for this Year's Head Boy (his words).

Ron fixed an eye on Hermione as she entered the common room. 'Did he ask you if he could change the time?' he demanded immediately, not bothering with a greeting. 'Or did he just arbitrarily decide this on his own, and expect us all to fall into line?'

Hermione sighed, wondering when the animosity between the two boys would diminish, if ever. 'No, the first I heard about it was when Professor Dumbledore announced it tonight,' she replied. She certainly wasn't going to defend Draco to Ron, or lie for him. Whatever weird thing they had got going on between them now was not to be allowed to change how they appeared to the rest of the school. Hermione wondered briefly about performing a late Obliviate on Ginny, but quickly dismissed the idea as unethical.

However, she couldn't prevent herself from adding, 'Why is it a problem if it's earlier, anyway? It just means we'll get done with it quicker.'

Ron huffed, clearly unwilling to admit any concessions when the matter involved Malfoy. 'He always does just what he wants,' he grumbled. 'He always has, and he just expects the rest of us to trot along behind him like obedient little House Elves. I still can't believe that Dumbledore made him Head Boy! As if he wasn't insufferable enough before he had this to rub it in with. I don't know how you stand it, Mione, having to put up with that inbred Ferret day in and day out.'

It was really just more of the same complaints that her brother had been making all term, but Ginny watched Hermione's face carefully as she listened again to Ron's grumbles about Malfoy, and had to admit that the older girl was showing remarkable fortitude; there was very little reaction to Ron's ranting beyond a slight wince when he started. Ever since he had been made a prefect in 5th year, the onset on one of her brother's tirades on Malfoy's many failings had been known to make poor Hermione grind her teeth in despair. Ginny had heard her saying ever since she first received her letter of appointment in August that no amount of bewailing it could change the identity of this year's Head Boy, so he might as well learn to live with it.

Hermione seemed disguising her reactions to the weekend's events much better than Ginny would ever have imagined possible given her flushed emotional state on Sunday, and she suddenly looked forward to seeing them interact at the Prefect meeting. With this end in mind, she shushed her brother with a sharp clip to his ear and began to hustle their little group out of the common room and towards the Office.

Hermione for her own part was already planning how best to present the appearance of being unchanged in Draco's presence, for she knew her inquisitive friend would be watching like a hawk ready to seize the slightest inconsistency in her behaviour; thus Ron's muttering had passed largely over her head in the face of more important issues, and she found herself standing outside the Prefect Office long before she was actually ready to be there.

Unlike the meetings preceding the Halloween Ball which had been almost entirely under Draco's direction, their current project was undoubtedly a joint one from which she could not abstain by placing herself in the midst of the other prefects; she had duty rosters and seasonal assignments to hand out to the others. Tonight she would have to be in the spotlight up there at the right hand of the Head Boy, under the scrutiny of Pansy Parkinson and the chosen representatives of each house. She only hoped she could bluff her way through it.

Most of the other prefects were already present as Joanna, who was walking ahead pushed open the office door for them to enter. Hermione instantly noted that Pansy was sitting towards the back of the room flanked on either side by the 6th and 5th year female prefects from Slytherin who were each holding a hand. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a worried glance at this sight; it was beginning to seem more and more as if the rumours of Pansy's fidelity charm had some basis in truth, for the timing of this sudden show of female Slytherin solidarity towards the senior girl was simply too suspicious to overlook.

Hermione was relieved to see that Draco had not yet arrived and she could take her spot at the Head table without having to walk right up to him in front of all those eyes. She settled herself quickly in her seat and began arranging her papers on the table in front of her so as to occupy her hands, which were dangerously close to shaking at the thought of behaving normally for the benefit of the other students.

The three remaining prefects straggled in, and at precisely 7.00, Draco swept into the room causing a sudden murmur to ripple through the students already seated. Tonight for some reason best known to himself, Malfoy had eschewed his customary Slytherin robes and marched up to the front of the room, wearing instead a pair of faded and comfortable looking jeans, a black knit sweater and boots which looked suspiciously like Doc Martens. The effect on the other occupants of the room was electrifying; Hermione, despite her resolution to conduct the whole meeting without ever once looking at him, found herself staring open mouthed along with the rest of the prefects. Malfoy never wore Muggle clothing; when not in traditional robes, he had been seen occasionally in beautifully tailored trousers and pristine dress shirts, but this - this was a first for everyone in the room. Draco took his place beside Hermione at the Head's table and dropped his own sheaf of papers on the surface beside hers. He didn't sit down and this fact alone turned her into a hormonal mess; standing right beside her as he was brought his remarkable arse to her eye level. Along with the other girls, Hermione couldn't help admiring the way the denim clung lovingly to every curve, and what was worse, she - and all the other girls - but particularly Hermione from her position at his side - had an eyeful of his spectacular equipment outlined by the soft denim; He dresses to the right, Hermione thought unable to control her wayward imagination. Oh, Lord - he's been inside me with that!

Draco was speaking and tapping on his notes with one finger, but Hermione and she suspected most of the other girls present hadn't heard a word of what he said, too wrapped up in lustful thoughts concerning the picture of their Head Boy in a pair of faded Levis. A sudden random glance at Pansy Parkinson was sufficient to bring Hermione back to her senses, however.

The Slytherin girl looked ready to commit murder. She was glaring viciously at Draco and the hold her two house mates had previously maintained on her hands had been loosened in the face of their shock at the Slytherin Prince's appearance resembling nothing so much as one of those sultry Muggle underwear models, and leaving almost as little to the imagination. Probably most of the boys present were feeling a little inadequate right now, too.

Hermione forced herself to listen to what Draco was saying, although she kept a cautious eye on Pansy not liking the prickling sensation which was running along her spine; the other girl was including Hermione in her bitter scowls at Malfoy, and if not for that episode in the Greenhouses this morning, Hermione would have thought that Pansy knew exactly who to blame for her current upset; as it was Pansy's only malice towards her seemed to be in relation to Hermione's refusal to help her dig into Draco's personal life, but it seemed like that was going to be enough for her to be caught in the backlash.

'.....There's only a week until the Social evening,' Draco was saying when Hermione finally tuned in to his words. 'I am assuming that all of you will go back to your Houses and ensure that the Headmaster's wishes for study topics have been attended to. The arrangements at the Hotel have been made as follows; there will be two rooms available for changing and resting, one for the girls and one for the boys. Professor Dumbledore has arranged for carriages to transport us to Hogsmeade; there can be up to six students to a carriage. You are actively encouraged to travel with people outside of your house; for the duration of the evening, any attempt to remain exclusively with members of your own house, or your significant other is highly discouraged. There will be a member of the teaching staff and a guest from outside at each table and you are expected to engage these individuals in conversation which does not revolve around school work or any House-related subject.'

Draco took in a breath and turned to Hermione for the first time since he had entered the room. He was having a similarly difficult time behaving as if she was a continued annoyance he had to put up with. He was quite sure that he would give them away just by looking at her; this was one of the reasons he had decided to make such a radical change to his appearance tonight. Always a strategist the Slytherin in him had decided that any small aid in distracting people's attention away from Hermione and himself was to be used. And the localized concealment charm firmly in place again.

'Granger - got anything to add?' He asked hoping he sounded coolly distant. He hadn't even made eye contact with Parkinson. He was so unbelievably furious with her that he didn't trust himself to even speak to her. His silence seemed to be having the added benefit of making her all the more distraught and he was glad that she was hurting, although Hermione would probably have told him he should feel sorry for her, he just couldn't find it in himself to pity someone who had been so invasive into his private life.

Hermione cleared her throat. 'Not about the Social Evening,' she said. 'I just have this week's patrol schedules to pass out, and I would like to remind everyone that just because Christmas is approaching doesn't mean that we can be lax with discipline, but at the same time, do try and stay in the spirit of the season!'

Draco paused a moment and when there was no comment, he opened the meeting for any other business; the 5th year Ravenclaws wanted to know who would be in charge of the remaining students with all the Heads of Houses absent at the Hotel in Hogsmeade, one of the Hufflepuff girls wanted to approach the faculty about letting girls wear trousers instead of skirts as part of their uniform during the winter months, and there were the usual complaints being passed on from the younger years about unfair points deduction in varying situations.

This part of the meeting usually took the longest, and Hermione walked amongst the prefects handing out their schedules as they debated the matters raised. She gave the rosters for all the Slytherin girls to Serena Pucey, the 5th year who was seated at Pansy's left side, and retreated quickly. Pansy was looking very unbalanced and Hermione didn't want to get any closer to her than absolutely necessary.

When there were finally no more issues to be covered, Draco called the meeting to a close and began gathering up his notes. Hermione joined the other Gryffindors heading for the door, simply glad to be done with the tortuous last hour, for she had been squirming under Ginny's hawk-like stare for the whole meeting, just waiting for either herself or Malfoy to make a mistake which would expose their liaison to the whole school.

She knew she would be giving her excuses almost as soon as they returned to the common room, and making her way back to the study she shared with Draco; the matter of Pansy had to be resolved - particularly given how unhinged she had looked tonight.

However, it turned out that the explosion with the Slytherin girl was more imminent than even Hermione had expected. The first few prefects had barely exited the room when she shook off the restraining hands of the two younger Slytherins and leapt out of her chair yelling at Draco and gripping onto her wand until her knuckles glowed white in her clenched fists. 'Draco - you bastard! I knew there was something going on. I knew it when Isabelle -'

Wide eyed and white faced, Hermione swung back around to watch in horror as the other girl fell apart, except that it never actually happened. Draco's face closed off into a cold mask, as he muttered a couple of quiet words and Pansy's mouth kept moving although there was no more sound leaving her lips. Her wand flew out of her hand into his, and he slipped it decisively into the back pocket of his jeans. Pansy, unable to understand why no sound was coming out of her mouth , panicked and began sobbing silently to herself. All the prefects stood open mouthed staring at the tableau in front of them, until Draco turned and dismissed them abruptly.

'It seems like Miss Parkinson and I have some extra issues to deal with,' he said coolly. 'If you would all return to your Houses, Pansy and I will be along shortly.' He waited expectantly for the other students to leave, and when they realised that there would be no more entertainment tonight, they filed reluctantly out of the office, watching avidly as the door slammed behind them, locking the two Slytherins inside.

Hermione exchanged a minute pained look with Ginny, until Ron broke out into happy cackling laughter. 'Well, whatever that was, I hope she fixes him good and proper!' He choked out. 'With a bit of luck they might hex each other into oblivion and we'll be rid of two worthless Slytherins!'

'Ron! How could you!' For an awful moment, Hermione thought that the words had spilt out from her own mouth, but she realised thankfully that she was merely standing there appalled and that it was Ginny who had chastised her brother, accompanied by a quick worried glance at her.

'What? Now what did I do?' Ron asked disgruntled.

Hermione took a deep breath and answered quickly when it looked like Ginny might leap in again and make the whole situation seem even more suspicious. 'Ron, Malfoy is the Head Boy this year,' she placated. 'Professor Dumbledore is very serious about all the houses getting on better. As prefects we have to set an example to the other students. I have to work with him this whole year, and I don't want it making any more difficult than it already is. Please make an effort not run him down where others can hear you. He did exactly the right thing keeping an argument between himself and some one in his own house private so that the rest of the school didn't get to hear it and spread rumours about it. Let's not be shown up by the Slytherins!'

'Sorry, Mione,' Ron muttered shuffling his feet awkwardly. He hated to disappoint her even though they weren't dating any more. Ginny winked knowingly at her over Ron's head Hermione found herself flushing hotly again.

She just wished she could believe her own words, and not be worried to death about what was happening back in the Prefect's Office.


	36. Chapter 36

The Gryffindor common room felt like a prison to Hermione; she had come to the uncomfortable conclusion that the rumours about Pansy's fidelity charm were undoubtedly true. There was no other explanation for her outburst this morning in Herbology, nor her breakdown just now after the prefect meeting. Hermione couldn't begin to imagine how Draco was planning on dealing with her accusations, nor what he could have meant when he implied he needed to alter the seating arrangements specifically to deal with her.

An hour of distracted attempts to study was all she could manage before she gave up the fight and announced she was returning to her room, taking blatant advantage of the fact that Ginny and Harry were currently sitting together in an armchair in one of the darker corners of the common room indulging in a heated make-out session which thankfully kept the red-headed girl's attention elsewhere.

She slipped through the portrait into her room, noticing that Gryffindor was still sulking at the far end of his available containment, but she had more important things to worry about than the bruised sensibilities of a oil-colour rendering of a long-dead wizard. Draco was not back in the study yet, and beyond his partially open door, his room was in darkness. Hermione worried about whether to wait in the study or to stay in her room, with her own door ajar so that he would know the invitation was implicit.

Eventually she decided that neutral ground was better; he had said he needed to talk to her about school duties, so the study it was. She took her still unsatisfactory potions notes with her and curled up at the end of one of the large comfy sofas which were set in front of the fire.

It was another fifteen minutes before he appeared, and as he didn't notice her immediately, Hermione had the opportunity to study him carefully before he became aware of her presence. His hair was tousled as if he had been pulling on it in exasperation, and the newly discovered curls were starting to escape the strict control he kept on them. He had a dark scowl on his face and he was gnawing on the left side of his bottom lip.

Before noticing Hermione, he dropped his meeting notes onto the floor outside his bedroom door and rolled his head backwards seemingly in an attempt to stretch out the tension in his neck. Obviously the meeting with Pansy had not gone well. She felt she ought to say something to alert him to her presence, but truth be told, she was enjoying the sight of him unguarded far too much to interrupt. She had barely allowed herself to look at him in the meeting room for fear of giving them away, but now she studied the new style Malfoy with greedy eyes.

She was hard-put to believe she had joined that revolting clique of witches who were constantly ogling the Head Boy's behind, but really - when it was shown to such advantage as it was tonight, how could any red blooded girl resist? She must have let out a moan of some sort for suddenly he swung towards her and with a brief growl of 'Granger!' he stalked towards her allowing her a magnificent view of the other spectacular parts of his anatomy. Really, it ought to be illegal for the Head Boy to wear jeans; she might just fail her NEWTs if he didn't go back to robes like all good wizards should.

'Malfoy!' she squeaked as he advanced on her, suddenly nervous of her reaction to this boy. 'Er- where did you get those boots?' she babbled idiotically, mentally hitting herself on the forehead when he stopped halfway across the room and looked at her as if she had asked whether the moon was made of cheese.

But he only looked puzzled for a moment until he saw the flush on her cheeks and the way her hands were nervously destroying what was left of her potions notes. He just loved the way that he could penetrate the cool, controlled exterior of the Gryffindor Ice Princess and expose the raging hormones beneath. He smirked at her and right on cue her breath caught in a gasp at the back of her throat.

'These old things?' he whispered, prowling closer. ' I got them in Edinburgh, last Christmas. Did it work, do you think?'

'What?' Hermione was confused. He had stopped now right in front of her but made no effort to sit down, which left her eye to eye once again with the zipper of his jeans. How could he possibly expect her to answer questions when she all she could see was the slow expansion of his cock as it swelled and lengthened against the faded blue denim until it was thrusting long and hard against the now straining fly of the jeans. Hermione gulped again trying to focus on his words and not his equipment. 'Did what work?'

Draco waved a hand vaguely at his body. 'This - the get-up! I thought it might distract people from staring too much.'

Hermione gave him a disbelieving look. Draco Malfoy could never really be so naïve as to think that the sight of him looking like a GQ model would make people not look, could he? No, she admitted as she caught sight of his mischievous grin, he had known people would look and had exploited it quite brilliantly in fact. She was sure not a single girl in the room had spared a glance for the bushy-haired Head Girl whilst she was seated beside a Malfoy in full plumage. And if they had, the last thought that would have ever occurred was that such a mousy little bookworm could ever have managed to capture the attention of such a magnificent being. He really was infuriatingly clever, and she had never given him credit for it before.

She scowled at him, not really angry. 'You know it did, you arrogant prat,' she mumbled. 'The temperature rose in there by at least 10 degrees the minute you walked in the door. Most of the girls were using their schedules as fans, and most of the boys looked like they wanted to hex boils all over your face for daring to look like that!'

'But what about the Head Girl?' he asked slyly, 'What was she thinking? I didn't see her using her notes for a fan....must not have had much effect on her, then?'

Hermione growled. 'Stop fishing for compliments you overgrown ferret,' she snapped. 'You know damn well the Head Girl felt it worst of all. God, she was sitting right next to you, and she didn't even dare look because -' she stopped abruptly, suddenly horrified at what she had been about to reveal.

'Because what?' Draco pressed urgently. 'Because all she wanted to do was this -?' He moved faster than Hermione had ever imagined he was capable of, catching the hand which was mangling her potions notes in his own and dragging it up to cover the swollen ridge of his erection whilst his other hand curled around the back of her head and held her still whilst he dropped onto the sofa beside her and his mouth could reach hers again.

Hermione managed a small whimper of protest before she caved in, her fingers squeezing and stroking as he whispered words of encouragement into her mouth in between heated kisses. His own hands were on her thighs, inching her school skirt upwards when she found her voice for another protest. 'I - I still have homework,' she puffed breathlessly.

'Me too,' he groaned into her neck, where he was currently nibbling without a care for the visibility of the location. His fingers reached their destination and they both gasped as he slipped them inside the elastic leg of her panties. 'We'll just have to be quick then,' he panted as she wriggled beneath him, her own hand gripping him so tightly he feared an unanticipated release into his jeans. 'But I know I can't concentrate on anything else until I've had you again.'

'Oh, God,' she moaned, sinking fast into incoherence. He pushed her right leg off the edge of the sofa, spreading her wide and open for him as he settled in the cradle of her thighs, his fingers never stopping their light caresses to her slick entrance. His thumb rubbed over her clit and she felt everything inside her begin to tighten up with the now familiar sensation which heralded the unstoppable rush towards climax.

The next moment a tearing sound indicated that Draco had lost his patience with her panties and ripped them off in his haste to reach her. This was followed by the unmistakable metallic hiss of his zipper opening and then he was inside her again. They came together almost fully dressed, right there on the sofa in the middle of the study, all grasping hands and grunted words.

'Stupid meeting,' Draco was mumbling. 'This - all I could think about. You - this! Oh! Can't hold it! Are you ready for me -? Gonna cum like a fucking volcano -!' the irony of his fevered words was totally lost on Draco. All he knew was that his release was gathering with explosive force at the base of his spine and that Hermione had to fly off the edge of the world with him. His hand pressed down between their undulating bodies and he rubbed his fingers urgently over her clit trying to provide that last stimulation she needed to fall over the edge at the exact moment he did.

Her reaction was so wild and unrestrained that he had to fight to stay within her; the muscles in her pussy clamped around his cock so fiercely that he was almost ejected from the her scalding heat. Her hips surged up from the couch as she screamed disjointedly in his ear; he was quite pleased with himself - this was the first time he had made her scream. But then the undulating movements of her climax clenching along the length of his penis incapacitated all his thought processes and he released himself into her with all the force of Niagara Falls.

They were both trembling, teeth chattering and gasping for breath as the world slowly stopped shaking around them. Draco managed to glance at the ornate clock above the fireplace and with typical Malfoy arrogance informed her, 'Not bad - under ten minutes. I know it's helped my concentration.'

'You prat,' Hermione muttered without true heat. She wriggled to get away from him, but he refused to release her, maneuvering them instead until he was sitting on the sofa with her straddling his lap, still joined together. She made one more half hearted attempt to push him away and when he refused to let her go, she laid her head against his shoulder and gave in to the worry that had been nagging at her since the end of the Prefect Meeting. 'What did you say to her?' she whispered refusing to meet his eyes.

'Ah, Pansy's little hex,' he sighed and laid his head against the back of the sofa. His fingers unconsciously entwined with hers and he began rubbing circles on the palm of her left hand with his thumb.

'So, it's true then?' Hermione gasped, for even despite all indications to the contrary, she had desperately hoped that Pansy was only just PMSing really badly or some such thing this morning.

Draco wondered just exactly how much to reveal; it probably wouldn't be the best idea in the world to admit, for instance, that he had been on the way to receiving a blow job from Pansy herself when he had first overheard Hermione and her friends talking about fidelity charms; but by the same virtue he felt uncomfortable blatantly lying about the fact that he had only been alerted to said charm by those same girls.

'Yes, it does appear that Pansy had charmed something to alert her to an occasion when I might sleep with someone other than her. I was - forewarned - about its existence, and I took steps to disable it.' He admitted cautiously; he was rather enjoying the way Hermione lay snuggled against his shoulder - and the fact that his semi-erect penis was still gloved inside her was well on it's way to making him feel all gooey and romantic. The last thing he wanted at the current moment was to say the wrong thing and send her off into one of her irritated lectures.

She moved minutely and the sensations even this tiny motion caused almost made him lose his thought. 'But - I wasn't thorough enough, I guess. It appears she managed to repair it after I had gone. And that brings us to where we are now. It won't react again; apparently it self-destructed on Sunday morning, but I would certainly say that Pansy is rather unhinged at the moment.'

Hermione snorted. Talk about understatement. 'So what happened after the meeting tonight?' She asked. 'You didn't actually hex her did you? Did she try and hex you?'

He shook his head. 'No, Pansy's no fool. She knows she can't hope to perform magic even close to my level. Besides, I had taken her wand - remember? After I took the silencing spell off her she yelled a lot and cried a lot, and there was a load of rubbish about what our parents expect from us after Hogwarts. I really didn't get to say much at all, I just waited for her to wind down really, then told her to keep out of my personal life and that it would never, ever include her again.'

He paused, considering how much exactly to tell her, and decided that it would be amusing to see her reaction to the knowledge that Snape had involved himself in the situation. He might have gone through an enormous reversal in his opinion of this girl, but he couldn't resist the habits of years gone and taunt her just a little. He had decided he was absolutely adorable when she was embarrassed, and the thought of teasing his little Gryffindor lioness whilst she was straddling his lap, still intimately joined was something he couldn't resist.

'Then I threatened to set Snape on her,' he continued slyly. 'It would appear that word of our weekend activities reached his ears, too. He made me sit through a very uncomfortable lecture just before Potions this afternoon -'

He didn't get any further for Hermione squeaked in mortification and despite his attempts to hold her still, leapt off his lap and into a frantic dance in the middle of the hearth rug. 'What?' She fairly screamed at him. 'Oh my God! Do you think Professor McGonagall knows! What about Professor Dumbledore? I can't believe you waited this long to tell me, you idiot! And you talked me into doing it again - Oh God! I'm going to lose my badge! We'll both be expelled and have to beg for knuts in Knockturn Alley!'

Draco tried to repress a smirk at the sight of his gorgeous girlfriend freaking out, but the more exotic her impassioned rambling became, the harder he found it to keep the grin off his face. When Hermione eventually paused for a breath and turned to see if her vile corrupter had any pearls of wisdom to impart, the sight of that bemused smirk caused her to reach for the nearest available object - which happened to be a copy of 1001 Magical Fungi and their uses in Potions - and lob it at his head.

'Hey!' He yelled irritably as he ducked the flying text book. He leapt up from the sofa also, and Hermione was unfortunately distracted by the sight of his impressive equipment bouncing tantalizingly out of the still opened zipper of his jeans, which enabled him to catch hold of her, trapping her arms by her sides so that no more projectiles could be launched at his head.

'Just calm down and listen,' he reasoned. 'If you could try letting someone get all the facts out before you overreacted, maybe there wouldn't have been any need for airborne books!'

'Just tell me that Snape wasn't looking at me all through class today and knowing what we just spent the whole weekend doing?' She moaned agonizingly, burrowing her hot face into his sweater.

'Actually, he has no idea who the girl was. Nobody does,' Draco soothed, rubbing his cheek against the wild hair on the top of her head; he decided he loved her hair - it was such a reflection of her whole personality - wild and untamed and larger than life. 'He just told me that he wasn't very impressed with either Pansy or myself, and that if I was going to be carrying on with someone then I should be extremely discreet and not give the Head Girl any opportunities to catch me and report my behaviour to the Headmaster in case I lost my badge.' He waited a moment for Hermione's brain to process this information, and right on cue she snapped her head back and stared at him indignantly.

'He said what?' She demanded. 'Oh, isn't that just so typical of him! Let his precious Slytherins do whatever they like, as long as it's all sneaky and underhanded! Why, I should -'

Draco outright laughed at that. 'Should what?' he asked mischievously. 'Go up to him and tell him exactly what you think of the idea of the Head Boy having permission to sleep with whoever he likes as long as he's discreet. I think that would be an interesting conversation, don't you? I can imagine how it might go - Well, Miss Granger, this is very cutoius - how could you possibly know what advice I have given Mr Malfoy on his private life - ?'

Hermione hit his shoulder hard. 'All right, there's no need to be so smug about it! I get the point; Snape is the very spirit of sentimentality - the soul of discretion!'

'Well, can you imagine McGonagall being so laid back about it?' Draco questioned practically, and she was forced reluctantly to agree that her own head of House's reaction was not something she wished to experience. 'You should be pleased, really - Snape actually sat there and told me to make a bigger effort to be nice to you! Told me not to upset you! And not to let you catch me!' He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and was rewarded finally with a faint twitching of her lips, and a minute relaxation in the tension of her muscles against him. 'He also said he was going to deal with Pansy's intrusion into my private life, but that doesn't mean I'm going to just leave it. I have an idea which will cause her the maximum discomfort possible and still be quite legal.'

Hermione allowed herself to be led back to the sofa, and sat down beside him trying hard to ignore the fact that she was wearing no underwear and that Draco still hadn't put himself away.

'Pansy is positively petrified of Professor Snape because she once tried to offer him sex to get a better mark on her potions OWL. Needless to say, the offer was not well received by our dear Head of House.' Draco began, and felt he was adequately rewarded by Hermione's astonished reaction. He grinned, and continued. 'You really don't want to know how I came by that information. Suffice it to say, even Pansy doesn't know that I saw it all - and I have hung on to the knowledge for all this time, waiting for a chance to use it to the best advantage!'

'So how do you imagine that changing her seat allocation will cause her to suffer for what she did?' Hermione asked sarcastically.

'Well, I had thought that forcing her to sit next to Snape for the whole night, under the full and complete knowledge that if she doesn't talk to him, and make lots of polite social chit-chat she will fail a class, might be a fitting agony for her to endure?'

Hermione studied him thoughtfully under her lashes for long moments. 'But what about Mandy Brocklehurst?' she questioned. 'You know - the only girl who's never had a detention with Snape? Where would she sit now?'

'Wherever Pansy was previously,' Draco said dismissively. 'It won't make any difference to Mandy; she'll have no problems fitting in with anyone we choose.' Hermione found herself feeling a little twinge of - something - at Draco's words, at his sure confidence that the Ravenclaw girl was capable of meeting any challenge they gave her. ' Also this will give Snape an opportunity to initiate whatever plan he has to make Pansy behave. It's mean without being obvious, cruel without being dangerous.'

He soundly coldly Slytherin as he pronounced these words, and Hermione shivered, forcefully reminded that this was not a domesticated New Age man in touch with his feminine side, but instead a ruthless, powerful young wizard whose ancestry could be traced back through generations of villains and Dark Arts practitioners. It would do her well to remember that, before he seduced away her free will with his voice and lips and hands.

'What's more - she's got it coming to her!' Draco finished darkly, breaking in on her disturbed ruminations.

And Hermione really couldn't disagree with that.

***********

At almost the same moment that Draco and Hermione were repeating their weekend intimacies on the study sofa, Severus Snape was sitting in his personal quarters marking 5th year end of term quizzes, when his fire subsided suddenly and then flared green, closely followed by the appearance of Albus Dumbledore's head amidst the flames.

Severus sighed. Of course it would be too much to have hoped that His All-Knowingness had managed to miss hearing about the recent disturbance in Severus' House!

Albus' disembodied head twinkled at his Potions Master. 'May I come in, Severus?' he asked politely and Severus ground his teeth in frustration. As if there could be any possible answer to that question other than yes.

'Of course, Headmaster,' he said stiffly. 'What can I do for you this evening?'

Albus Dumbledore emerged from the floo into Severus' chambers, dusting off his purple paisley robes as he did so. He glanced towards a chair beside the hearth and raised his eyebrows. Severus nodded resignedly. Looked like the Headmaster was going to be here for a while. He pushed his marking away and came around his desk to join Albus in front of the fire.

They sat in silence, contemplating the renewed flames in the grate for a while. Severus was determined to out-wait the Headmaster. He had endured enough of Albus' unnerving silences to know that whoever spoke first would lose the advantage in the conversation. Although he suspected that Dumbledore was here to talk about the occurrence in the girl's dormitory over the weekend; he had learnt the hard way that Dumbledore often supplemented his extensive awareness of the events occurring around him by the tendency of the unwary to rush, in the face of Albus' unwavering gaze, into offering flustered explanations for situations that the Headmaster actually had no prior knowledge of.

Severus wasn't about to fall into that trap again. Sometimes he thought the old man was even more Slytherin than Salazar himself.

Obviously the Headmaster didn't have all evening to play who will crack first games with his Potions master. He sighed and fixed his famous twinkly gaze on Snape. 'So, Severus,' he began mildly. 'I heard there was some commotion in Slytherin over the weekend? Do you have any insight into what happened?'

'There were some - pyrotechnics, yes,' Severus admitted cautiously. 'However, no one was physically hurt, and aside from a deplorable lack of sleep for most of the students, no harm was done to anyone.'

'But you feel there may have been some emotional damage?' Dumbledore questioned thoughtfully, and Severus ground his teeth again. So typical of the Headmaster to twist his words around and pick on something with only the shadow of a ghost of an implication.

'Well, certainly to the perpetrator,' he admitted nastily, 'But since this was entirely her own creation, I can hardly imagine why she should be upset at the results of her endeavors. That was the reason she created it, after all!'

'Hmm,' Dumbledore replied. 'And our victim? Have you managed to ascertain if there was any emotional impact on him?'

Severus snorted. 'Indeed! I had quite an illuminating conversation with our victim this afternoon. He has certainly felt some emotional impact, but I would be hard put to describe it as damage. He certainly seemed very pleased with himself when I spoke to him.'

'Indeed?' the Headmaster smiled quite beatifically. Severus shuddered; Albus Dumbledore in such a jovial mood was bound to spell trouble for someone. Most likely himself. 'So, Severus, let's stop beating about the bush, shall we? Tell me everything you know about the events of Saturday night,' as he spoke, the Headmaster allowed his eyes to turn slightly towards an arrangement in the corner of Snape's room. It comprised of several spherical opaque objects whose base element most closely resembled glass. At the present time, yellow and green clusters of light glowed faintly beneath the surface of two of these orbs. Of the remaining four, one was a dull impervious grey and the other three glowed with a pulsating milky mist.

Although none of the students were aware of its existence, this was the Slytherin House alarm system. Severus had enchanted it himself and was fairly pleased with it's subtlety; the yellow lights represented the presence of the Slytherin girls in their dormitories, the green the boys. The dull grey orb was Severus' study - not currently activated due to his presence in the room. The faintly swirling mist in the other three balls merely signified that all was normal in his bedroom, classroom and ingredients storage room. Any rise in temperature signifying the intrusion of a human body into these thermostatically charm-controlled areas would immediately flare red in these orbs, and a simple flick of Severus' wand would allow the orbs to project a view of the inside of each room. Muggles might have called it a closed circuit tv system.

Severus did not look inside the dormitories; he had always found that his sudden uncanny appearances nearby as soon as a green light appeared in the yellow orb or vice-versa was usually enough to discourage co-mingling of the sexes within the actual confines of Slytherin, although he had little influence over assignations held elsewhere on the school premises.

In the past year however, he had grown to despair of Miss Parkinson's sexual proclivities, and lately had even given up appearing on her doorstep to chase out the amour of the moment. In truth he was quite glad to have her mind occupied elsewhere, for heaven forbid she ever make a repeat of her offer in the 5th year.

Saturday past, there had been a solitary green glow in her dormitory, leading Severus to assume she was entertaining again, but as that was the only infraction he had not bothered about it overly much. Observation of the orbs had indicated that the Slytherins were up and about very late Saturday and early into Sunday morning, but mostly the students seemed to be milling around the corridor and common room, and before long Miss Parkinson was alone in her room and remained so without even her other dorm mate's company the rest of the night.

Unusual but not particularly suspicious behaviour. Severus, who had his own plans for Saturday evening had chosen not to make an appearance, there were no classes the following day, after all. Of course, when word of what had actually happened reached his highly sensitive ears via several different sources, he tried to regret his decision, but unfortunately found he could not.

It was hugely unprofessional, but Severus found he took great enjoyment in the fact that Draco had apparently found someone he really liked, and the fact that Pansy had created such a clever charm - albeit with the wrong intentions - pleasantly surprised him. He had all but given up on the girl ever showing even a spark of her family's talent.

The front he had presented Draco with today had obviously convinced the boy that he disapproved deeply, and he hoped it had served to put young Malfoy on his guard against revealing too much too soon, and to the wrong people. Needless to say, Albus was a very different proposition to Draco Malfoy, and would not be so easy to manipulate.

He sighed and looked at the Headmaster who smiled encouragingly, obviously waiting for an answer. Nothing for it, but the bare bones of the truth. 'Well it appears Miss Parkinson created a charm which was intended to warn her if Mr Malfoy entered into - sexual relations with someone other than herself. It would seem that Draco has been inordinately celibate so far this year, because her alarm did not activate until this past weekend.'

'And could the activation of Miss Parkinson's alarm account for the inordinate amount of disturbance which was noticed amongst the students of your House?' Albus asked probingly.

Severus grimaced. 'Apparently, Miss Parkinson did not fully research the consequences of her charm, or else she gave it far more power than she intended. Instead of simply alerting her to the fact that something had occurred, it seems to have reacted cumulatively to - ah - every time Mr Malfoy finished - until it actually immolated itself right there in the girl's dormitory. Hence, all the boys can talk about is Draco's stamina, and the girls are trying to sympathise with Pansy but finding it really hard because they are jealous of a shadow.'

Dumbledore didn't say anything for several moments, and despite what he had said himself to Draco about not wishing to know the girl's identity, Severus couldn't help but wonder if the old man actually knew who had been in the Head Boy's room over the weekend. Severus was again struck with the fear that Draco might lose his Head Boy status for this latest stunt; horrifying images of Dumbledore regretfully offering the usurped position to Harry Bloody Potter, accompanied by much sad shaking of his silvery head flew into his mind and he could not dislodge them.

'Headmaster -' he rushed to say quickly. 'Have you information which I don't about Draco's - partner in these activities?' The wards and enchantments were less on the Head student suite than other areas of the school; it was a reasonable assumption that having gained such a level of recognition, the students who held these posts were basically trustworthy and capable of making wise choices about their lives and behaviour, but the old man still had ways and means of gathering intelligence which he didn't share with the rest of the staff.

'Well, I could certainly hazard a guess or two,' Dumbledore replied thoughtfully, 'But in the end, that's all they would be - guesses. Do you not have any ideas in your own heart of hearts, Severus, who might have finally captured the roving eye of our Head Boy?' He watched amusedly as Severus shook his head irritably.

'Honestly, Albus, I have far too many demands on me to be wasting what little spare time I do have pondering on the romantic palpitations of a bunch of hormone-driven teenagers!' He exclaimed exasperatedly. Albus outright laughed at this.

'Our exceptional Head Boy has behaved entirely as I had expected and placed binding charms on all the portraits he has access to in the Head Student suites; I'm afraid that without blatantly practicing spying and voyeurism, I have no means of discerning what goes on behind the closed doors of Mr Malfoy's room.'

Severus grunted, but was secretly pleased at Draco's skill and ingenuity. 'Although the incident with Miss Parkinson's alarm was unfortunate, I don't believe it warrants the invasion of his privacy by even more of us than has already occurred. You said he seemed pleased with himself, Severus. Did you by any chance infer from your conversation whether this might turn out to be a lasting relationship?'

Severus considered the advisability of sharing Draco's heartfelt, Yes, very with the Headmaster and decided that Albus was right - they should let him have some privacy for his emotions. He shook his head, shrugging ambiguously in reply, and missed the brief snap of frustration in Dumbledore's bright blue gaze.

'Well, thank you for your help, Severus,' he said as he rose from his seat. 'I am sure you have the fall-out from this episode well in hand. I will see you at breakfast.' And leaving Severus surprised by the speed of his departure, he stepped back into the floo and disappeared from sight.

Minerva was waiting for Albus in his chambers as he reemerged at the other end.

'Well?' she demanded impatiently. 'Do we know anything more now?'

'Alas, no,' the Headmaster sighed sadly. ''We still have to trust in our assumptions, which I am sure nonetheless are correct!' he added bracingly.

Minerva snorted. 'Well, Malfoy better damn well hurry up and commit himself if you want to swing this before things start to get sticky!' she exclaimed tartly.

Albus patted her hand soothingly. 'I know my dear,' he said. 'I am sure we will have it all sorted out before Fudge can get Lucius paroled in the New Year.'


	37. Chapter 37

The week which followed was a very difficult one for Hermione; in the space of forty-eight hours her life had undergone not one but two enormous and unpredicted changes. She was now in the unheard of position of having gained a - what exactly could she call Draco - boyfriend? Lover? Definitely a something; after all once might be called an accident, even twice could be explained away as a mistake, but after the third time, it became dangerously close to being a habit one should really tell one's friends about.

Thus, Hermione was currently keeping two major secrets from her closest friends - the existence of her new love-life, and the identity of the man in question.

By the time Thursday evening rolled around and Draco had the rescheduled Quidditch practice which he had agreed to with Nick Bartlett, Hermione had spent another three nights in his bed, and her own room had only been used for obtaining a clean uniform in the mornings. Draco had watched amused from her door as she bounced on her bed a couple of times and shook the sheets around, which she informed him haughtily was to give the house elves the continuing impression that she had slept there the night before. He had then proceeded to join her and obligingly helped to make the rumpled bedding even more convincing.

They had both been late for breakfast, and Hermione was quite concerned at how easily they had fallen into this secret existence, where they continued to treat one another abrasively in public and yet spent hours and hours worshipping each other's bodies behind locked doors. She hated the fact that she was keeping such an enormous secret from Ron and Harry, yet she reasoned that it (whatever it was) could never last, never survive the secrecy, the sneaking around, never overcome the simple fact of what she was and who he was expected to be. So why hurt the boys over something so obviously doomed to be short-lived?

However, this evening Hermione found that for the first time in her life, she wanted to go out to the Quidditch field and watch a practice session, and she was appalled at herself. She was actually restlessly pacing the floor in Gryffindor Tower, mentally trying to restrain herself from leaving. In the end she was only able to remain indoors by returning to her own rooms and then in to Draco's and using her omnioculars to watch the training through his bedroom window.

She thought he might have realised she was doing this when he turned and looked directly at the window as if he knew she was there; maybe the fading evening sun had glinted off the lenses as she focused them or maybe it was just wishful thinking, but the sight was worth the effort. Merlin, he looked good on a broom; maybe not as fluid and natural as Harry, but the skill and precision he displayed showed his determination and dedication to continuously improve.

She hoped he was still wearing his uniform when he got back to the common room, because she really wanted to strip it off him one piece at a time. She blushed at her own thoughts...Merlin, when had she become so depraved? He truly was corrupting her; their appetite for each other seemed insatiable - after their quick joining on the sofa Monday night, he had refused flat out to consider her returning to her own room.

He picked her up and deposited her on his bed after they had finished the rest of their work, and told her she wasn't going anywhere. Then he had proceeded to take her again, far more slowly and tormenting than he had earlier. And afterwards, Hermione had been so exhausted that she couldn't have moved a muscle towards her own bed if she had tried.

Every night she had expected that their need for each other would diminish, or that the consummation would be less intense, but instead the sex just seemed to get better and better; now they could recognise each other's sighs and gasps, their hands and mouths spoke a language entirely their own, and just last night they had climaxed together so intensely that Hermione had burst into tears unable to cope with the feelings that exploded throughout her body. Draco had simply held on tight to her with shaking arms and no need to question her sobs for he was teetering on the edge of an emotional collapse himself.

Hermione had avoided him for most of Thursday, afraid that she would give them away, for she felt as if every nerve end was raw and exposed. She had been sure that if she had so much as looked at him she would have dropped whatever she was doing and flown at him like a magnet to her true North. Now she just wished the interminable day was over and he could return to their rooms so she could touch him again, ground herself before she went crazy in her own skin.

She swung back to the window and checked through the omnioculars. At last! She could see that the team was making its way to the changing rooms. Draco was wrestling the bludgers back into the carved storage box; she wondered if he would take a shower before returning, or if like her, his skin was leaping with the need to touch again. She watched as he hoisted the box onto his shoulder and strode towards the broom store with it, before returning to pacing the floor.

She was startled only moments later when a heavy knocking came at the window she had just vacated, and turning she saw Draco hovering just outside on his broom. Her heart leapt into her throat as she raced to open the catch and he swooped into the room followed by a gust of cold wind. With an idle flick of his wrist he sent the broom to lean against the wall beside the door, and prowled towards a quivering Hermione.

'Were you watching us?' he asked hoarsely, and she nodded speechlessly. 'I thought so, I could feel you, feel your eyes on me like fire,' he muttered.

Hermione shivered; she had never seen him close up in his uniform before. That afternoon under the Quidditch stands before Slytherin beat Gryffindor hardly counted. It had been too dark, and she had been too shocked and deep in denial to appreciate the sight then, but Merlin, she was getting the full effect of it tonight! She felt tingles start between her legs and her nipples pebbled into aching points against her sweater. Draco didn't miss a second of her arousal, and he was in such perfect synch with her that he knew instantly the reason for her lust. He stopped a foot away from her, watching as her eyes greedily took in the sight of him in his uniform, the leather shin and arm guards. He immediately revised his plans for seducing her, reaching out with one leather-gloved hand and running his index finger over the pointed tip of one breast. He was rewarded by the way she sucked her breath in and her eyes fell shut.

He allowed his hand to slide from the heaving curve of her breast down her arm until he caught her hand in his and tugged gently; she opened dazed eyes and looked at him questioningly. 'Let's have a bath,' he suggested hoarsely, and she nodded breathlessly. Somehow that seemed an even better idea than jumping on him and ravaging him. More - intimate? He didn't take his eyes off hers as they walked hand in hand into the bathroom, not until he had to turn and fill the bath, and Hermione simply stood where he had left her shivering with some new emotion she didn't dare to analyse. Something had definitely just shifted between them, and she wasn't sure if she dared to wonder what it was.

Finally he was happy with the temperature and the choice of bath oils and he turned back to her, his hands reaching for the clasp on his green cloak. This brought Hermione out of her introspection, as she remembered her fantasy of stripping him out of his uniform. 'No!' She said quickly. 'Let me do that.'

His hands dropped away immediately, and she gave him a sultry glance from under her lashes which made his breathing hitch unevenly. She moved up in front of him and painfully slowly undid the serpent hook at the front of his cloak, pushing it off his shoulders to fall unheeded at their feet. She rested her face briefly against the damp green wool of his thick sweater. He smelled of fresh air and Draco; it was wonderful. Next went the thick leather arm guards; she unbuckled them slowly and carefully, dropping them to the tiled floor next to the cloak. He bent briefly to allow her to pull the sweater and the cotton shirt beneath it over his head.

When she dropped onto her knees before him, all the blood in his body rushed south. Logically he knew she had only done so to enable her to unbuckle the shin pads, but his penis didn't know that. His head (both of them) swam with the image of his little lioness on her knees for a totally different reason. She had never offered that to him yet, despite his obvious enthusiasm for her own taste, and he didn't intend to rush her until she was ready. He tried to remind his eager cock that she was still very inexperienced, but it didn't have much effect on the randy little sod, and he knew that she had to be aware of how aroused he was with her face - Oh, God, her mouth - so close to his crotch. But she appeared to be ignoring his rampant erection, methodically unbuckling the leather pads, and then rising gracefully to her feet before allowing her hands to stray to his waistband and zipper. He gasped when her knuckles brushed over his swollen cock as she eased the corduroy pants open, and sighed in relief as her hot little fingers slipped inside and released him into the steamy air of the bathroom. She pushed the trousers down and he kicked them out of the way with his boots and socks, until he was standing before her naked and aroused.

'Don't you think you're a little overdressed for a bath?' he asked hoarsely. It was very difficult to maintain a clear head when she was staring at his naked body like that.

'Hmmm?' she asked dreamily, as if coming out of a trance. 'Oh!' she blushed suddenly, adorably confused at being caught staring, and Draco decided that he simply had to return the favour. He stepped up close to her and eased her sweatshirt up over her head - dark maroon with the Gryffindor crest embroidered on the front of it. The only good thing about it was that she had nothing on underneath but a skimpy purple satin bra. Draco growled at the sight, and went for her jeans, running his fingers around her navel piercing first. He had found this to be one of the most erogenous zones on her whole body, and he grinned to himself as she began trembling under his touch. Her jeans soon joined the pile of discarded clothing on the tiled floor, and she was left standing before him in only her matching underwear.

Draco ran a finger along the elasticated top of her knickers. 'I like this, Granger,' he muttered, 'Is it some kind of Muggle thing?' He traced the line of the elastic and spun her slowly around on the spot so that he could see where the thin line of fabric disappeared between the soft globes of her gorgeous behind. 'Very kinky, I wouldn't have ever thought it of you, Granger.'

Hermione whimpered as his hands squeezed her bum. 'It was a birthday present,' she managed, and squeaked suddenly as his hands tightened painfully.

'Who buys you birthday presents like this?' he growled possessively, pinching until she squirmed.

'My - my friend Julia -' Hermione gasped. 'She - she worked at Victoria's Secret during the school holidays!' The horrible rushing in Draco's ears quieted at this and he dusted apologetics kisses over the red marks on her behind until she was squirming for quite another reason.

'What's the point of this thing? It hardly seems to be worth wearing anything so small?' he asked. 'And what is Victoria's secret? That she can't afford a whole pair of knickers?'

Hermione giggled; she had forgotten how very traditional the older wizarding families were. 'It's called a thong, or a g-string,' she whispered, 'The idea is so that you don't get an ugly line in your trousers showing where your knickers are. And Victoria's Secret is a store which sells women's underwear.'

Draco's eyes lit with interest at this information. This was something that Professor DiBona didn't cover in Muggle Studies. He moved so that his erection was rubbing against the purple satin of the thong thing, but all too soon the rest of her clothes fell discarded to the floor, and he was lifting her over into the hot sandalwood scented water before joining her there.

He couldn't help letting out an appreciative groan as he lowered his own body into the water in front of her, letting the heat soak away any remaining chill from the long and strenuous training session. He drifted backwards in the water until he was leaning against the pillow of her breasts, with his head resting on her left shoulder. He gave a small tug on her wrists until her arms looped forwards around his neck, and her fingers began to play absently with the light dusting of sandy blond hair on his chest. He had no idea it could feel so good just relaxing in a bath of hot water in the arms of his witch. His erection hadn't diminished at all; in fact a glance at the swollen red length of his cock bobbing just under the surface of the water showed him that he was harder than ever, but it felt so damn wonderful just floating here with Hermione that the urgency to take care of it had simply receded for the moment.

He sighed and allowed his eyes to close in contentment, and so was taken by surprise when he felt Hermione's hand close around his cock and begin stroking him as he had taught her over the past few nights. He moaned encouragingly and thrust up into her hand, and she enthusiastically renewed her efforts until he realised that she had no intentions of stopping in time.

'Granger, no - No! Inside you!' he moaned out disjointedly, trying to push her hands away, but she merely giggled into his damp hair and held him tighter, moving faster as she slipped her other hand downwards to caress his heavy balls, rolling them and tickling them until he couldn't deny it a second longer and his hips jerked up out of the bath water, moaning her name over and over as he came onto her fingers. When he could finally muster up the energy to turn and look at her, he found her wearing a contented smile, and although he tried to chastise her for disregarding his request, he found it truly difficult to remain upset with her when she looked so bloody, fucking gorgeous naked in his bath with him.

She stroked her fingers through his hair as he scolded her, and bent to kiss the end of his nose. 'Draco,' she cooed. 'I know you'll give me the same a dozen times tonight. This was something I wanted to do for you, and I got just as much pleasure from it as you did. Now let me massage your shoulders before we get out of here. I thought I saw you get hit by a bludger out there tonight.....'

She pushed his head away from her again and began to rub his shoulders and the nape of his neck expertly, so that all he could do was moan in pleasure. They finally managed to use the soap and it was probably an hour later before they left the water and he carried her once again into his bedroom, where he proceeded to pay her back for using her hands on him by caressing her and bringing her to the very brink of climax time and time again without letting her fall over the edge, until just shy of midnight when he finally allowed her the relief of orgasm.

They fell asleep curled around one another, and this time even Draco was too exhausted to waken her in the middle of the night for another turn.

************

Saturday dawned bright but cool, which seemed to be a good omen for the traveling plans of the 7th years in the evening. It looked like the girl's formal robes would not be under attack from rain, snow or mud, and the lower years were all casting envious glances at their elders over breakfast in the Great Hall as they read last minute facts about their study topics, and speculated one last time on where they would be seated.

Draco and Hermione returned to their study shortly after lunch to prepare their own outfits for the night. Hermione had still not mentioned the colour of her robes to him; she wanted to surprise him when they arrived - to that end she had even enchanted small silver dragons with ruby eyes out of her Halloween black cat earrings, and was planning to wear them as a message for him, which she hoped would be too subtle for anyone else to spot. She was fairly confident the dark green robes wouldn't excite comment, especially as she had let Lavender and Parvati think the choice theirs. Everyone knew where the gossip in Hogwarts originated, and with those two on her side, she should be fairly safe from malicious comment.

Packing was hampered by another intense snogging session that quickly got out of hand, but as Draco groaned breathlessly as he took her hard and fast against her bedroom wall, they wouldn't be able to lay a hand on each other tonight, so it really was in the interests of good sense that they get it out of their systems before they arrived at the Hotel.

As they collapsed panting and sweaty on the rug in front of the fireplace, Hermione finally remembered that neither of them had recently looked at their own invitations for a subject. She leapt up in an academic panic despite Draco's trying to hold her still and rummaged into her book bag, still semi-naked, until she found the now rather crumpled parchment.

'Draco, don't just lie there - go and find yours!' she cried shrilly. 'Oh my God, I can't believe we forgot to check this! We're supposed to be setting an example for the whole school, and we're just laying here shagging like rabbits -'

Draco uncurled himself from the hearth rug and stretched sinuously, making Hermione forget what she was trying to scold him for, and replied huffily, 'Well, you might have been shagging, Granger - but I was making love to my gorgeous girlfriend, which I happen to think is a damn sight more important than swotting up on some outlandish subject I will never again need to know anything about, to satisfy the whim of a deranged old wizard!'

'Don't talk about Dumbledore like that -' Hermione began outraged, when the import of his other words finally sank in, and she gasped softly, 'Oh! Draco -'

But he simply overran her words. 'So - what does it say then?' he queried sarcastically.

Hermione shook her head trying to dispel the millions of questions clamoring to be asked and unfolded her invitation. She frowned. 'There's nothing!' she exclaimed shocked. 'The dinner is tonight and there's still nothing on there!'

This actually made Draco more interested than anything else she had said about the study topic so far, and he strode still naked, into his room to collect his own invitation out of his bedside table. He unfolded it as he was walking back to Hermione and frowned to realise that his also remained blank. 'Now that is odd.' He said as he reached her side and took her invitation to compare it with his own.

'Very,' Hermione agreed as she leant over to watch as he held both parchments up side by side to compare them. Her gasp was echoed almost simultaneously by his own, for as soon as both invitations brushed together at the edges, words began to form along the bottom of each in a flowing purple script. It began on Draco's invitation, Romeo an continuing on Hermione's without pause d Juliet....

Draco was thinking furiously as the words appeared. His analytical mind flew back immediately to the previous Saturday night when he had been soaking in the bath and That Song had come on the Muggle request show complete with Dumbledore's curious dedication. Coincidence? He didn't think so - Hermione's panicked scream finally brought his attention back to the witch beside him.

The Head Girl seemed to be hyperventilating. 'Oh, God. He knows! He knows what we're doing. He must do - what else could this mean. Oh my God - do you think he'll expel us? Do you think he'll take away our badges? That's what Snape told you would happen if you got caught. Oh, no! That's why Godric won't talk to me any more! He's been sulking all week - he must know I lost my position! Oh, no! He's probably going to announce it tonight - in front of the Governors and everyone from the Ministry -'

'Granger! Snap out of it!' Draco said forcefully. 'I don't think he knows. I don't think that's what this means at all -'

'You don't?' Hermione interrupted hopefully, but her pleasure didn't last long. 'No - it's too coincidental. Why else would we have been given a subject like that! And jointly on both our invitations which only appeared when they touched. And Godric -'

'Oh, forget about Godric, will you,' Draco sighed. 'He's not talking to you because he can't. I put a binding spell on him, and all the other portraits in these rooms. I didn't want them running off to snitch to Dumbledore every time I wiped my arse in here. How do you think the old man gets all his information anyway? There's spying eyes on every wall in this building. Gryffindor's just sulking.' He ignored an outraged grunt from Hermione, and continued. 'I think the cunning old coot doesn't know anything but he's trying to tell us that if something were to happen, he would approve. Not that I care one way or another if he approves or not,' he hastened to add.

'Do you really think so?' Hermione asked doubtfully, tapping one foot on the floor and chewing on one of her nails.

Draco sighed, 'Yes, I do,' he muttered. 'I know what I'm doing with secrecy spells, trust me on that one. I promise you there's no way anyone could know what we do alone in here unless they're standing over there under an invisibility cloak -' he caught Hermione's quick furtive glance around the room and hissed. 'Great Merlin, don't tell me - Potter's got one of those, too?' Hermione grimaced apologetically, and he sighed. 'That just figures - explains a lot, too!'

'Draco -' Hermione began hesitantly. 'How did this happen?' He seemed confused and she tried elucidate. 'You - me, this. How did it happen? How could it happen, when it's us, who we are? I don't understand, and now you think Dumbledore's meddling in it, as well!'

Draco came over and took her into his arms again; she may not understand why this had happened, but she had absolutely no doubts at this very moment that there was nowhere else in the whole world she would rather be than right here. She relaxed into his bare chest with a sigh and kissed his shoulder. 'I don't know either,' he confessed. 'One day I was just quietly going about my business and all of a sudden something happened which forced me to picture you in a - sexual way, and as soon as it happened, it was as if I could see every little detail of you. I hadn't realised I knew your face so well, your mannerisms, your behaviour. You. I was forced to think hard about our past, and now that my mind was open to it, there were dozens of little occasions during which something of this nature could have started. Remember that time in 3rd year when you smacked me?' she nodded against his chest, 'Well, I'm sure you don't know that I didn't retaliate in any way because I'd gotten such a fucking stiffy from it that all I could do was bugger off to the boy's bathrooms and bring myself off before the next class! It was the first time I ever had to do that in school, and I liked to put it down to the whole violence thing,' he grimaced. 'You know - jr Death Eater mentality. My father always told me that I would get such a thrill out of the wildness, and I thought I was getting in practice for that. I was only thirteen; then he got me a rather special present for my next birthday, and after that I couldn't let myself wonder if the rather spectacular mess I made of the wall and my trousers wasn't prompted by something else entirely....I know I had myself utterly and totally convinced that I couldn't stand the sight of you and I wouldn't allow for there to be any other possibility until that day, and after that it was too late. Six years of denial all scrambling to burst out all over the place. Didn't stand a chance really. You?'

Hermione was disappointed that he couldn't express it any better than she. 'I don't understand it either,' she sighed, 'But you're right - it just hit me suddenly one day. I had said - something - about you to someone, and all of a sudden I didn't like the way I felt afterwards; guilty you know, and that became awareness and then nerves, and soon it was the only thing I could think about, and then after Halloween everything started falling apart, until last weekend. But that's what worries me - you and I - it shouldn't feel this way.'

Draco was considering her words, wondering if it could be possible that she had come to see him on the very same day that he had fallen in lust with her - she had definitely been talking about him to someone on that day. The idea that such a thing could have hit them both simultaneously seemed like an omen, but he couldn't decide if it was a good or bad one, and all of a sudden Hermione's alarm clock began screeching loudly. 'Time for the carriages, time for the carriages,' and she gasped quickly wrenching herself away to finish packing.

They had decided to take the first ride into the village as they had to liaise with Mr Pringle before the start of the dinner; Hermione was going to change in the girl's room at the Felton Arms, and Draco in the boy's. They still hadn't informed Pringle of the slight change in seating, and anticipated more of his signature ranting and arm waving when they did, so they had particularly decided to be early in case calming and soothing were required.

When they had made this decision, neither had anticipated finding it necessary to spend the early afternoon discovering new ways of making the other scream, although given their sad inability to keep their hands off each other, it was maybe a thought which should have occurred. Nevertheless, they were now scrambling to make the first coaches with some very tantalizing possibilities hanging between them.

It was going to be an interesting evening.


	38. Chapter 38

Ever cautious, they returned to their House common rooms and made their way down to the main entrance to take the coach into Hogsmeade from there. Draco paused when he saw Greg and Vince playing exploding snap in front of the huge fireplace, and after some debate decided to impart some advice to them.

'Hey, guys,' he said quietly as he approached. 'I'm heading off now to the Hotel. I have to make final placings and sort out the table arrangements and all that stuff before you guests get there.' The boys nodded agreeably, and Draco paused momentarily before adding, 'Look, when you get to sit down, try and talk to the Gryffindors at your table. Remember what we talked about when we went down to the library on Monday? These things have to start somewhere; let's impress everyone out there by showing that it's the Slytherins who can befriend their former rivals.'

Greg blinked curiously and Vince tilted his head to one side. 'I thought we weren't supposed to know who we were sitting with until we got there?' He questioned cautiously. 'We're going to be sitting with the Gryffindors?'

'At least one person from each House at each table,' Draco replied ambiguously. 'And whoever you've got, just try and talk sociably with them. We're all the same age, and we all more or less take the same subjects. It shouldn't be too hard to find some common ground to break the ice. Ask what their favourite Quidditch team is if you can't come up with anything else.' He sighed and then smiled faintly. 'Just do your best, ok? I'll see you in a couple of hours.'

Draco slung the bag containing his dress robes over his shoulder and exited the common room, leaving Greg and Vince staring gloomily at each other. 'You know what that means, don't you?' Vince sighed. 'We've been landed with Potter and Weasley!'

Greg nodded sympathetically. 'Bloody Hell, you're right!' He agreed. 'I would much rather have gotten one of the twins, or Granger!'

Vince scowled. 'Didn't Draco tell you to forget about her?' he said. 'I know she's been nice to us and all, but that's one witch who'd never look at a Slytherin.' He sighed despondently, 'Merlin's balls, what on Earth do we talk to DangerWeasel and the Boy Wonder about?'

**********

When Draco exited the castle to join Hermione and wait for a carriage into Hogsmeade, he was infuriated to find that Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil and Ernie Macmillan were already standing with her at the bottom of the steps, chatting. He growled to himself. Give me a Break! Didn't this happen to him once already? Consequently when he swept down the steps to reach their little party, he had a dark scowl on his face which made the other prefects greet him cautiously, whilst Hermione gave him a searching gaze as if trying to decide what might have put him in such a bad humour in between leaving their study and arriving here.

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head at him as the carriage approached and the others turned away to collect their bags, but he shook his head imperceptibly at her. When she sighed, he knew she had put his ill humour down to something which occurred in his own house on the way here. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe she was so naive that she didn't see how Goldstein was drooling over her, or that she couldn't recognise his own reaction as entirely territorial. She belonged to him, and he hated the fact that he couldn't make that crystal clear to everyone. Especially Goldstein and that damned Weasel!

They climbed into the carriage and Goldstein immediately cast a lighting charm, so Draco took a seat opposite Hermione. There would obviously be no opportunity for furtive snuggling, so he might as well sit where he had the best view of her. Bloody Ravenclaw - to clever for his own damned good. Hermione looked startled at first that he had made no effort to sit beside her, but when he allowed his eyes to linger minutely on her chest and subtly licked his lips, she felt a shiver of lust run through her and she realised immediately what he was up to. Damn it, hadn't the previous couple of hours in their study been supposed to satisfy them for the rest of the day? She couldn't possibly want him again already, could she?

The journey passed quietly. Draco and Tony seemed unwilling to have a conversation, Ernie was too intimidated by the Slytherin to contribute much, so it was left to Padma and Hermione to pass the time in idle chatter.

When they arrived, Hermione asked Padma if she would mind taking her bag to the girl's changing rooms, so that she could go straight to the function room and start laying the place cards. Padma agreed easily, but Draco knew there was no chance of either of the other boys doing the same favour for him, so he marched grumpily upwards to deposit his own formal robes in the boy's suite.

By the time he joined Hermione in the dining room, Dilman Pringle had already spent five minutes lecturing her on the reasons why it was bad etiquette to change seating assignments on the day of the function, and Draco had just about had enough of things going wrong for one day. 'Maybe it is bad etiquette,' he snapped at the flamboyant wizard, 'But it also shows adaptability and intuition. The change stands; no one but the three of us even knows it's a change anyway. So get over it!'

'Draco!' Hermione gasped in shock. 'Mr Pringle, I'm sor -'

Pringle's eyes glittered with something which almost looked like amusement. 'Miss Granger, never apologise for someone else's bad manners,' he informed her. 'Only for your own. If Mr Malfoy behaves like a rude and arrogant young man, then that is how he will be seen by others.' He bowed to them formally. 'I would not dream of altering your plans; this is your function - I am sure you thought you had a good reason for the change,' and with these words he turned and swept from the room.

Hermione glared at Draco, but he simply rolled his eyes and asked. 'Okay - what's next?'

'You really are still an absolute prat, aren't you?' Hermione sighed. 'Come on, we need to enchant the centerpieces for the tables.' They had decided at the last moment to award the miniature trees as table prizes for whichever diner had the birthdate nearest to the one charmed onto the bottom of the tree stand. It was a Muggle idea that Hermione heard from her parents who had won a beautiful candelabra at a Christmas party the previous year, and which Draco found fascinating.

After completing this task, they checked the room again; the staff had exceeded all expectations for the decorations. Aside from the tiny trees on each table, there were three other trees in the room, all decorated with live fairies; the carpets had been enchanted to a rich red colour, which made Draco scowl, but he was unable to criticise for the chairs had been trimmed in a festive but still Slytherin green. Enchanted snow was falling from the ceiling which vanished on contact, and soft Christmas bells quietly chimed favourite tunes, both Muggle and Wizard in the background.

'It's gorgeous,' Hermione said finally. She looked at her watch, and realised it was approaching time for them to change and join the rest of their class mates. Draco mumbled an agreement, but he was not looking at the decorations. They slipped out of the main doors to the ballroom, and found that the lobby was milling with many of their peers, several of whom tried to steal a quick glance into the room before they managed to shut the doors behind them.

Lavender and Parvati quickly pounced on Hermione, scolding her for not being ready, and dragged her away to the changing room. They were eager to see her in the green robes 'they' had chosen, and in the end, Hermione was forced to let Lavender style her hair, as any plans to spend the afternoon having Ginny create a masterpiece had fallen by the wayside when faced with the alternative of shagging the Head Boy instead. Hermione comforted herself with the thought that there were no scissors in the room, and in the end Lavender actually created a very attractive French braid, leaving wispy tendrils of hair to frame her face, and Hermione found she was quite pleased with it.

When the girls returned to the lobby, Dumbledore was already there resplendent in peacock green dress robes, circulating amongst the splendidly attired guests, some of whom Hermione did not recognise. A chart displaying the allocated table plan had been situated in a corner of the reception area by the hotel staff, and she could see that many of her peers had already checked to see where they had been assigned; some were obviously relieved, others less pleased but dealing, and a few looked positively horrified. In a category all of her own was Pansy Parkinson, who appeared on the verge of vomiting, her complexion having taken on an unflattering greenish hue which clashed horribly with her pink robes. Obviously she was one of those who had already checked the seating plan, and from the venomous scowl she sent in Hermione's direction, she was apparently blaming entirely the wrong person for her allocation.

Tonks saw Hermione and gave a brief wave, but this completely distracted her from where she was walking so that she stumbled and knocked into the elderly wizard to her left, which resulted in the wizard on her right (who unfortunately happened to be Professor Snape) receiving a dousing of her drink down his customary black robes.

Hermione winced in sympathy as Tonks began trying to mop up the head of Slytherin with the cuff of her turquoise robe; but Snape merely sighed and appeared to cast a vanishing charm on his sleeve. Apparently everyone had been instructed to be on their best behaviour tonight. And since Tonks didn't seem to show any more trepidation than she might have at spilling something on for instance, Neville's arm, Hermione was forced to appreciate Draco's suggestion to seat the Auror with Professor Snape.

Professor Dumbledore caught sight of Hermione standing at the bottom of the stairs, and clapped his hands loudly to gain the attention of the milling guests. When most people had turned towards him, he beckoned her over, and searched the reception area for the Head Boy, who he also summoned as soon as he caught sight of him.

The Headmaster stood patiently in between Draco and Hermione until he had complete silence, and then introduced the Hogwarts Head students to the gathered guests. 'Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger have spent many hours on the organizing of this event, which I am convinced we will all enjoy immensely. Let us now proceed to the dining room where I am sure we will be able to meet some old friends and hopefully make some new ones! Hermione - Draco, if you would be so kind as to lead the way?' He stepped quickly backwards away from them so that they were suddenly standing side by side in front of the closed doors to the function suite.

Draco turned smoothly and offered Hermione his arm in an old fashioned courtly gesture. She took a calming breath, aware of the irony of their intimate posture, even if no one else was. She smiled at him, letting her eyes express her appreciation of how good he looked and allowing her hand a light caress as it smoothed over the expensive heavy velvet of his dress robes.

Draco was wearing black; he had considered for a moment of insanity the idea of changing the colour of his robes to exactly match the green of Hermione's, but in the end discretion won and he stayed with the original black. He thought that probably no one would have noticed, much less leapt to the outlandish conclusion that it had been done as a statement of possession, but by now he knew Hermione well enough to be sure that such an act would have incurred a panic attack of mammoth proportions, which would no doubt have ruined her enjoyment of the evening, and as a direct result, his own.

Besides, there was no denying that with his colouring black suited him. The sheen of the luxurious velvet seemed to absorb the surrounding light and then cast it back up to his hair, which shone like the silver embroidery threading around the hem, wrists and front of his robes and almost perfectly matching the colour of his eyes. The outfit had probably cost more galleons than everyone else's at their table put together, but for the first time in his life he was dressing to look good for someone else, not to show off the Malfoy fortune. The heated glance Hermione gave him before she shielded her eyes with her lashes told him he had succeeded and he gripped her hand more firmly in the crook of his arm to acknowledge her appreciation.

They walked to their table, and he politely held out her chair for her so that they were the first to sit down, and the other students and guests filed into the room quickly behind them with accompanying gasps of pleasure and approval at the decorations, and soon the room was filled with the hum of conversation.

Waiters robed in the Felton Arm's livery of purple and gold waited discreetly around the perimeter of the room until all the guests settled themselves, and mindful of their very explicit expectations, attempted to engage the adults at their tables in meaningful conversation.

Hermione turned to her left and smiled at Professor Flitwick, glad to be out of the spotlight for at least the duration of the meal. The diminutive Charms Professor smiled back and with a wink at her he mouthed quietly, 'Flick and a swish!' suiting the action to his words until the legs on his chair extended and he rose to a more uniform level with the other diners at the table.

Draco was meanwhile introducing himself to the Ministry guest seated at their table, an older African Wizard dressed in very brightly colored striped robes, with wooden beads and feathers woven into his beard and dangling from his ears. From their profiles they knew this was Barnabas LeBongo, a semi-retired Auror who currently worked on case assignments. He had been placed at their table for the sole reason that Hermione was fascinated by his name. The Sorting Hat had metaphorically rolled it's eyes at this discovery, gleaned directly from her subconscious, and never admitted out loud to Draco, Dumbledore or Pringle, but as there was no particular reason why he should not be placed with them, here he sat today.

Due to the need to even out the dining partners by gender, the other people at Hermione's table were Susan Bones from Hufflepuff and Morag McDougal, a quiet but pleasant Ravenclaw girl whose family actually lived in Hogsmeade. Now that she was actually seated here, surrounded by her dinner companions, Hermione suddenly realised that her table probably had some of the most congenial company, and immediately began to wonder if all the other 7th years were staring at her and thinking that she had deliberately arranged it so for her own comfort.

She was teetering on the brink of a major persecution complex when Draco's ankle hooked around hers under cover of the draping tablecloth, and his foot slipped free of his shoe stroking up against the curve of her leg. Her brain immediately gave up all thoughts of her potential selfishness, as she cast a cautious look around to make sure no one could see what the Head Boy was up to; however the length of the white linen concealed what he was doing, and everyone at the table seemed to be concentrating on each other's conversation as instructed, so she relaxed minutely.

Upon consultation with Pringle, she and Draco had decided that the 7th year students would be served one glass of wine with their meal, and no more. The purpose of the evening was not supposed to be a drunken party, and although there was obviously a cash bar in the hotel, students were not to be served until after the five course meal ended.

The waiters were beginning to bring out the appetizers, and Hermione took the opportunity to check out the other tables and see how her friends were faring. Of course, her first glance uncontrollably fell on Professor Snape's table where Pansy was huddled as far as she could possibly get away from her teacher on the confines of her chair. This put her almost in Anthony Goldstein's lap, and he was looking extremely uncomfortable about the whole thing. He kept fidgeting and casting Pansy nervous looks whilst trying to talk normally to Sally-Ann Perks on his other side. Professor Snape however was totally ignoring both Pansy and it seemed, the whole spirit of the Social evening. He was speaking at length to Tonks, who seemed to be hanging on to his every word, judging by the way her (currently) magenta-hued head was bobbing up and down as she listened to him and emphasized her agreement with pointed stabs of a carrot stick into the air.

Hermione's eyes searched out Harry and Ron to distract her from what Draco was doing under the table. Harry had won a seat at Professor Sprout's table and one of the Governors (a previous Slytherin) was the other adult guest. Seated directly across from him was Vincent Crabbe, who seemed to be drawing something on a napkin. Harry had Padma Patil to his left and Mary Beene to his right, both of whom seemed relaxed and at ease with the proceedings.

Ron had ended up at a table with two outside guests; it had been inevitable that one of her friends would have to sit with total strangers. Draco had been most insistent that it be Ron in this position, and the Sorting Hat had surprisingly supported him. The old Hufflepuff Governor sat to his right, and seemed to Hermione to be quite grandmotherly and not at all threatening. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat across the table from Ron, and Hermione was glad that he had a familiar adult face present, even if Draco could not have known there was a prior connection when he proposed the older Auror in the arrangement. Gregory Goyle had also been assigned to this table, and surprisingly enough it seemed that he and Ron had struck up quite an animated conversation as they leant across an obviously irritated Hannah Abbott to continue their debate.

Hermione was just deciding that the whole thing seemed to be going quite well, when she heard Draco ask the head of Ravenclaw in a casual voice, 'So, Professor Flitwick - ever read any Shakespeare?' She almost spat her roast potato out onto her lap, as the diminutive Professor scratched his head thoughtfully and turned to Draco with an inquisitive expression on his face.

'No, Mr Malfoy - I don't believe I have. What field does he specialise in?'

'Fiction.' Draco replied firmly. 'He was a 16th century Muggle playwright. I do believe that he holds a position of great esteem in the Muggle world though.'

'Oh, really,' Flitwick commented, clearly not at all interested. 'Have you been covering that in your Muggle studies classes then?' And that was it. It had been as easy and as complicated as that. Draco had upheld exactly the letter of the assignment, and Hermione was still aghast at his approach; Draco had obviously recognised the reference behind their study topic, but she highly doubted he had studied Shakespeare to the extent he could hold a conversation about the man and his works, and broaching it in this manner with Flitwick could have rebounded unpleasantly on him. Malfoy must have been born under a charmed star!

But, the subject having been covered now, Draco and Professor Flitwick went on to talk about the merits of applying Muggle-based research into the theory of Charms, and Hermione was left wondering if the whole exercise had been worth the worry she wasted on it.

She pushed her food around her plate for a few more minutes before Morag leaned over to her and began asking her what her plans were when she left Hogwarts. Hermione had spent very little time with the Ravenclaw girl in the past six years; she was very quiet and kept to her own House. Hermione therefore admired her attempt to follow the Social Evening rules and ever conscious of her responsibility as Head Girl, she gave all her attention to the girl and discussed her thoughts on her future career whilst trying to learn some of Morag's own plans.

Barnabas LeBongo, who was seated beside Morag, joined in their conversation upon hearing that one of Hermione's options was Auror training, so that before she knew it, dinner was over and the Hotel band which was to provide music for dancing had taken their places on the stage, and were tuning their instruments.

The guests looked awkwardly at each other as the first, and then the second songs were played. It seemed that everyone was either too shy or unsure of their companions, or the etiquette of Dumbledore's expectations to make the first move onto the dance floor. Were they allowed to ask someone from their own house to dance, or must they stay in company with their dining companions in case of failing the requirements of the evening?

Draco sighed and turned to Hermione, she could feel him shifting around under the table and knew he was replacing his shoes, which was a good thing because his caressing toes had been far too distracting throughout the meal. 'We had better start the ball rolling,' he muttered quietly, 'Or they'll all be still sitting here at midnight. Go and ask a Hufflepuff to dance.'

Hermione glared at him, put out. Arrogant Slytherin. 'You ask a Hufflepuff to dance,' she hissed, affronted. 'I'll make my own decision who to dance with!' And with that she rose from the table in a swirl of green velvet, just as a waltz began.

Draco stared in jealous annoyance as she made her way determinedly to Tony Goldstein's table. He rose out of his seat and went as far as taking a couple of steps after her, before she did something he could never have predicted in a thousand lifetimes, stopping not before the Ravenclaw prefect, but instead beside Professor Snape and inviting him to accompany her to the dance floor.

Draco was shocked into stillness as he waited to see how the surly Potions Master reacted to her invitation; he was unable to divert his steps or make any effort to approach another table, but luckily the rest of the room was equally focused on the drama being played out and his immobility went unnoticed.

Afterwards, Hermione would never be able to explain what had prompted her last second decision to ask the head of Slytherin to open the dancing with her; when she had started towards the table, she had every intention of inviting Tony Goldstein to dance with her. But some fierce undeniable voice had declared to her that doing so would be a really, really bad idea, and without conscious thought she had acted upon it's advice and placed herself right in the path of Professor Snape's acidic tongue. She still couldn't believe she was actually standing here, making the request.

'Professor Snape,' she began, amazed at the steadiness of her voice when she was actually quaking inside. 'Would you do me the honour of sharing this dance with me?' Tonks gave her an admiring look, and Hermione winced under the older girl's scrutiny. For the first time in six years she seemed to have managed to render the Potions teacher speechless; no sarcastic set-down followed her request, and she swallowed a frighteningly large lump which had wedged itself in her throat.

'Oh, do go on, Severus,' Tonks encouraged when the silence was beginning to stretch to uncomfortable proportions. 'I think that's exactly what the evening needs. A nice Slytherin/Gryffindor example for the other 7th years.' She winked at Hermione as Professor Snape shook off his stupor and with a large sigh of resignation rose from the table and offered his arm to Hermione who, now that she had achieved the seemingly impossible, had absolutely no idea what to do next.

She simply followed his lead across the floor, and searched frantically for Draco to try and understand what had prompted her to this insanity. She found him standing at Professor Dumbledore's table, taking Parvati's hand as he invited the Gryffindor to dance. Dumbledore was smiling benevolently at them both and moments later, he himself rose and shortly after led Millicent Bulstrode out onto the dance floor, which seemed to release the freeze on all the other guests and slowly other couples began to venture onto the dance floor.

'Miss Granger,' Hermione literally jumped at the sound of Professor Snape's silky voice in her ear; she dragged her gaze away from where Draco and Parvati were dancing at the opposite side of the floor. She couldn't believe how jealous she was of the other girl, when it had been she who had sent Draco off to find a partner, and when she knew that Parvati was quite content with her own boyfriend and in no way attracted to Draco. 'Having invited me to dance, perhaps you could do me the courtesy of actually speaking to me?'

'Sorry, sir!' Hermione squeaked nervously, chancing a glance up at her teacher's face and instead of sarcasm finding genuine amusement. Admittedly in the past year, since the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix, Professor Snape had been marginally less obnoxious to Ron, Harry and herself, but never to the extent that she could have imagined he would agree to dance with a student, and then to waste the opportunity to make snide remarks.

She had actually been quite surprised when he didn't chastise Tonks for daring to use his first name, although she supposed that they had become more familiar with each other during the course of Order business throughout the school year, than they had been when she had last stayed at Headquarters over the summer.

'Miss Granger, do tell me how you are dealing with Mr Malfoy this year?' Snape continued as he faultlessly swirled her across the dance floor. 'I have to admit that your work seems to have been achieved without the attendant name-calling and hexing that I might have expected form the pair of you.'

Hermione stumbled over her own feet at the question, and stared viciously at the floor as if it were at fault and not her own guilty conscience. 'We've managed to temporarily put our differences aside for the good of the school,' she managed haltingly, cursing her own impetuous stupidity for getting her into this situation. What on earth possessed her to invite Draco's Head of House to dance? All the sex must have been destroying her brain cells without her knowing it. She had lost her mind.

'Good,' Snape was saying now. 'I am glad you have both managed to behave in a sensible adult manner. I hope that whatever happens in the future you will continue to maintain this healthier tolerance for each other. Ah, and that sounds like the end of this song. Please excuse me Miss Granger, I fear two dances in a row and people will begin to talk!'

He released her hand with a brief incline of his head and swept back to the table, Hermione's eyes following him speculatively all the way, as she wondered how to interpret his parting remarks - until her gaze clashed with Pansy Parkinson's. The Slytherin girl was staring at her with absolute venom, so much so that Hermione fell back a step before collecting herself. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed that despite Pansy's fear of Snape and her humiliation over the 5th year episode, the simple fact of Hermione's approaching him and actually prevailing upon him to act civilly towards her had become yet another reason to suspect vengeance from the other girl.

However, her ruminations were interrupted as Justin came up behind her and asked her for the next dance. Thereafter she changed partners constantly for the next hour or so, until Professor Dumbledore approached her and Harry and asked that he might be allowed to cut in as his 'old limbs' would not be up to many more dances tonight, and he wished to have one turn around the room with the Head Girl.

Harry surrendered her smilingly and went to find Ron, whilst Dumbledore spun Hermione around the room quite as sprightly as a Cornish pixie, despite his deprecations. The Headmaster was humming quietly along with the music, and Hermione took advantage of his distraction to surreptitiously search around for Draco, whom she hadn't seen since she left the dinner table. She found him not so far away from them, dancing with Professor McGonagall and he had obviously been waiting for her to catch his eye for he sent a long suffering grimace in her direction as he was pulled along in McGonagall's wake.

Quite without Hermione realising it had happened, Professor Dumbledore managed to twirl her around until they almost ran into Draco and his partner, and he brought both couples to an abrupt halt in middle of the dance floor as he delightedly proclaimed, 'Ah, Minerva my dear! I do believe this next song is for you and I to dance together and then I think I shall be done with dancing for the evening! Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy - you don't mind a small exchange of partners now, do you? Good, good! Let's be off and show these youngsters how to jive, Minerva!'

McGonagall, who looked as surprised as Hermione felt, found herself removed deftly from her partner and whisked nimbly away as Draco and Hermione were left standing awkwardly abandoned in front of each other, both unsure of whether to make the first move to where they had wanted to be all night.

Then the song changed, and Hermione's eyes flew up to Draco's with a soft 'Oh!' for the tune which was now being attempted by the band was Breathe, the same song which had caused her so much confusion at the Halloween Ball.

**********

He had been watching Hermione all evening, flitting from one dance partner to another, never once coming to him. When she had first arisen from her seat after dinner and swept towards Snape's table his heart had leapt into his mouth, wondering if she was heading for him, but then she had veered at the last moment and asked Professor Snape himself to dance!

From that moment on, she had never lacked for partners. The Head Girl was positively radiant tonight, the dark green velvet of her dress robes brought a soft glow to her creamy smooth skin, and the braid sweeping her hair off her neck made him want to nibble on the shadowed hollow where her neck and shoulder met.

He knew the exact moment when his interest in Hermione Granger had begun; and tonight - he had decided that tonight was going to be the night he made his move. He had just been waiting for the perfect opportunity, and all of a sudden it was here! The Headmaster and Professor McGonagall had abandoned them in the middle of the dance floor, and they just stood there, staring uncomfortably at each other, as if not sure what to do next.

It was the perfect moment to effect a romantic gesture and rescue Hermione from the unpleasant Slytherin. A broad grin breaking over his face, he rose to his feet sparing only a muttered excuse to Susan Bones and Michael Corner, with whom he been idly chatting moments earlier.

He had first noticed Hermione in 5th year during the DA meetings; when his fellow Ravenclaw, Terry, had exclaimed in admiration of her Protean Charm, she had blushed an adorable shade of pink as she accepted his compliments, and Tony had been instantly hooked.

Of course, Ron Weasley was always there scowling at anyone who tried to get close to her, and even Potter demanded more of her attention than was required for someone without any romantic inclinations at all towards her. Tony bided his time, hoping that Hermione and Ron would hurry up and get into the inevitable relationship, realise it would never work, and break up leaving the field clear for him. He was shrewd enough to know that they had to get it out of their systems before he made his move, or else they would both always be wondering what if. Unfortunately, it had taken a whole year longer than he had anticipated, but when they left school at the end of 6th year, he had rested his hopes on the likelihood of his being elected Head Boy, and thus being entitled to more of her company. There was no doubt in anyone's mind who would be the Head Girl, and Tony had planned to use his year sharing with her to his full advantage.

The notification, which came in late August that he had been passed over for Head Boy in favour of that Slytherin Malfoy, had all but devastated him. He couldn't believe that life had thrown yet another obstacle in his path to Hermione Granger. Yet after he returned to school, it got even worse; the inevitable relationship between Ron Weasley and Hermione started just weeks after the beginning of term, and he was thus forced to watch Malfoy get to share all of her official obligations, and Ron take up the remains of her leisure time.

He barely noticed any of the other girls who often made desperate attempts to get his attention. In his mind, Hermione was the ideal; she was intelligent, thoughtful, kind, loyal and if not conventionally pretty - carried something indefinable in her eyes which caught your fancy and made you think she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen. Well, that was how it seemed to him.

He had just about given up all hope of winning Hermione when Luna Lovegood, a 6th year prefect in his House had come to him one Saturday morning while he was studying in the library and informed him in hushed tones that Ron Weasley and the Head Girl had broken up. Luna had never made any secret of the fact that she liked the red head, and her information had come from Ron's sister - a most reliable source. It was quite obvious why she would be excited. Tony however, had been somewhat taken aback that Luna had immediately thought of him to share this news with. He had thought that his feelings were well concealed. It disturbed him to discover he had been more obvious than he realised.

He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth though, and when Hermione herself had turned up shortly after, needing to discuss prefect business with him, he had leapt at the opportunity to spend some time with her. He had been practicing all sorts of speeches ever since he decided tonight would be The Night, and now the moment was upon him to put his plan into action.

For there they were, Hermione and Malfoy standing in the middle of the dance floor, abandoned by their previous dance partners, staring awkwardly anywhere but at each other, clearly unwilling to take the obvious step of dancing with each other, and the golden opportunity to rescue Hermione from an embarrassing situation could not be passed by.

He had managed to take two steps towards the dance floor when his hopes and plans crashed down around him, with no hope of resurrection.

Even as he was moving towards them, the band started another song, and before Tony's very eyes, Hermione - who had been staring at a point somewhere over Malfoy's left shoulder - snapped her gaze back to his. Malfoy simultaneously stopped examining the ceiling and stared straight into her eyes; Tony was sure he saw her catch a deep breath and the next second she stepped forward into his arms which immediately encircled her and drew her close in to his body. Malfoy said something quietly into her ear, which made her flush and dip her head down shyly, even as a delighted smile tried to spread over her face.

Right before Tony's disbelieving eyes, Malfoy brought Hermione's right hand up to lay against his black dress robes directly over his heart, and although there was absolutely nothing out of place in this stance as they moved slowly in time to the music, the way Malfoy's fingers curled around hers and lingered there just a fraction too long as he spun her into the dance, sent warning bells clamoring in Tony's head.

Hermione replied to Malfoy's quiet words, and he grinned - actually grinned - before whispering something else which made her catch her breath and cast a quick guilty glance around the room before straight into Malfoy's eyes and scolding quite clearly enough for Tony to read her lips, 'You can't, Draco. Not here!'

Tony almost staggered with the weight of this awful revelation; although everything about their demeanour was perfectly circumspect for a slow dance, the air between them practically crackled with pheromones. Malfoy was devouring her with the intense gaze of a man aroused; Tony should know - it was exactly the face that looked back at him from the mirror when he was thinking about her. Hermione was fairly radiating happiness; it surrounded her like an aura, and Tony felt sick with shock. It was absolutely undeniable that there was some sort of relationship between the two of them - and there was no doubt in his mind that whatever they were involved in had progressed into complete intimacy with each other. But even more, it was obviously something which they were hiding from the rest of the school.

Tony frantically searched the room, unable to believe that no one else could see or recognise what was happening right in front of their very noses; but all around him, his peers and teachers were blithely going about their business - dancing, smiling and laughing without sparing a second glance for the Head Boy and Girl. Tony wanted to climb on a table and shout at them, to yell at the top of his voice, make them see, make them stop. But he couldn't; there was nothing he could do - his chance had come and gone without him even knowing it, and again, Malfoy had claimed the prize.

Oh, Merlin - little things began to fall into place seeing them together like this - how cold and snide Malfoy had been this year; Malfoy knew how he felt - even if Hermione had never realised it, Malfoy had recognised his feelings, and he was defending his territory. But Hermione - how could she of all people have surrendered to someone like Draco Malfoy. He watched sickly as, for a second of time so very brief he could almost believe he had imagined it, she allowed her cheek to rest on the expensive black velvet of Malfoy's dress robes, and her eyes closed as an expression of bliss drifted across her face. It was over in an instant, and with the next turn to the music they were once again at a circumspect distance from one another, but Tony knew he had not imagined it.

His mind finally processed what his eyes had been denying, and he realised suddenly that Hermione Granger, champion of all things Gryffindor, had chosen to attend the most important social event of their final year dressed in green. As a declaration it would have been entirely too subtle to be recognised, had he not seen her lost to her surroundings in Malfoy's arms, but given the reality of his painful conclusions, it was the final nail in his hopes of a chance with her.

His shoulders slumped and he was turning back to rejoin his table when Professor Dumbledore came up behind the Head students and they separated to listen to some instruction he was giving them. Susan and Michael gave him a surprised look as he slumped back down in the seat he had only recently vacated. 'I thought you were going to dance?' Susan said curiously.

'I didn't like the song they were playing,' Tony replied wearily.

Michael frowned. 'Are you feeling ok, Ant?' He asked, examining the other boy. 'You don't look so good. Have you had too much to drink?'

Tony just shook his head; he was in shock and too weary to explain himself to his friends.


	39. Chapter 39

Severus had settled back in his seat pleasantly surprised by the behaviour of the Head Girl; admittedly, he had only chosen to dance with her instead of publicly embarrassing her in an effort to feel out her thoughts on how she and Draco were coping in each other's company this year, (Well, that and the fact that Dumbledore's instructions on behaviour tonight had been extremely explicit) but it had turned out better than he expected.

Miss Granger had obviously struggled with deciding how to answer his questions, but in typical Gryffindor fashion she had chosen to display loyalty even to her Slytherin counterpart, and although Severus knew she was not being wholly truthful with him, there was no actual lie in her answer. She and Draco were dealing with each other, seemingly better than could have been hoped for at the beginning of term. She was however, smart enough not to look directly at him as she stumbled through her answers to his questions. No doubt thanks to Potter, and his chronic oversharing habits, she was probably aware of his abilities in legilimency; in fact one such as she had probably long since discerned the necessity of his using this skill simply to enable his continued role as a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks, therefore she would no doubt instinctively resist giving him any further opportunity to probe her thoughts on the matter.

Tonks had left the table and was dancing with Potter, and Miss Parkinson had taken the opportunity to make good her escape. It was quite amusing to watch the girl squirm under the speculative glances he had tossed her way several times throughout the meal. She was obviously dreading his response to her aborted attempt to spy on Malfoy. Whatever bravado had inspired the idea in her mind over the summer, had definitely fled when faced with the disastrous results of her experiment. She knew that as Head of her House, he could not allow such behaviour to slide, but it certainly had it's perks dragging out the wait. Severus knew it had been Draco's idea to place Pansy beside him for the meal. It was exactly the Slytherin tactics he would have employed himself had he been the aggrieved party. He was actually quite impressed by the accuracy of Draco's malice; it wasn't as if he actually knew why Pansy would find this proximity so uncomfortable.

He looked casually around the room, wondering if Draco's paramour was present tonight or if she was in one of the lower years. The boy had headed straight for the Gryffindor Patil when Granger came to ask him to dance, but Severus didn't believe she was the one. The unfathomable relationship she had formed with the Destroyer of Cauldrons, although incomprehensible to Severus, seemed to be working out very well for them both, and they were clearly devoted to each other.

Although he wished for nothing further from this evening than to sit here in his chair enjoying the especially good vintage firewhiskey the Felton Arms served, Severus knew that mingling was required and he could not avoid it for ever. Dumbledore wanted him to speak to the students - ask them questions about non-academic subjects. What a frightful idea, and one he definitely needed extra liquid fortification to pursue.

He was left blessedly alone to imbibe another two glasses of firewhiskey before Minerva arrived at his table with a couple of her Gryffindors in tow. She directed Mr Finnegan and Miss Brown to sit opposite him, and glared meaningfully at him. To their credit, neither of the students seemed any happier to be there than he was to receive them, but obviously unwilling to jeopardize their grade they stayed in place even after Minerva swept off back to the dance floor.

Severus had rarely been as pleased to see anyone as he was to spy Tonks bearing down on the table again, albeit leaving a trail of devastation and spilled drinks in her wake. 'Hey there, Professor,' she puffed gaily as she flopped down in her assigned seat beside him, blowing a wisp of her brightly colored hair out of her eyes.

'Didn't mean to leave you all alone there, with the kiddies,' she winked blatantly and outrageously at Lavender as she spoke making it quite clear to everyone who sat at the table that she was poking fun at his expense, and Severus felt his momentary relief at her appearance evaporate in a puff of smoke. She was obviously at her irritating best, and undermining his dignity with every word which fell unguarded from her mouth. He scowled at her, and within seconds Lavender and Finnegan were scuttling off to dance with each other in an effort to avoid a showdown.

He had just opened his mouth to complain to her, when she continued brightly. 'There you are. They've gone now, so you can go back to brooding again!' She smirked at him smugly and leant her chair back on its two rear legs, looking pleased with herself. Of course, she tilted a just smidgeon too far, and Severus had to lean forwards and grab the chair just as it was about to topple over backwards and deposit her on the ground. He sighed in resignation; it never failed to amaze him how she could function as an Auror when every move she made seemed to court disaster in some form or another.

'Just stay still for another couple of hours,' he instructed her, 'and the evening will be all over, and the rest of us just might escape with all our limbs intact and not wearing any of our drinks!'

'Well, if you won't let me move, you'll have to keep talking to me then,' Tonks replied unrepressed. 'Tell me what's going on with Malfoy? You wouldn't believe the things that I just heard when I was in the loo.'

Severus sighed. It was going to be a long evening.

*********

After Harry relinquished Tonks he scanned the room for sight of Ron or Hermione; he found the Head Girl circling the dance floor with Terry Boot, and sighed in relief. He wasn't sure what had come over her, marching up to Professor Snape like that, but it had prompted his own invitation to Tonks, in an effort to make the whole episode look just less odd. Ron was still sitting at the table he had been assigned, but now Hannah Abbott had escaped from her captive position between him and Goyle, and it appeared their animated conversation had continued unabated.

Harry smiled to himself as he made his way over to Ron, anticipating the red-head's heartfelt thanks for being rescued from the Slytherin. Crabbe, who had been seated at Harry's table for dinner, had actually made some halting efforts to strike up a conversation with him, but eventually they had both found the whole episode so surreal that as soon as the dancing began they had both made their escapes in opposite directions. Honestly, Harry was quite surprised that Ron and Goyle were still talking despite the opportunity of release for each of them.

He wasn't entirely surprised to hear as he approached from behind Ron, that they were arguing about Quidditch. Ron was questioning, quite daringly Harry thought, why Goyle and Crabbe had stepped down from the team this year, and Harry found himself quite interested in the answer also; he wondered if Goyle would actually give one.

The moment was lost however, when the Slytherin boy noticed him hovering over Ron's shoulder, and his face rearranged itself into a ghost of Malfoy's smirk. 'That would a Slytherin team secret, Weasley,' he said solemnly. 'It would never do to let the Gryffindor Captain in on it!' He winked at Ron who sighed in frustration, then pushed his chair away from the table and ambled away.

Ron turned around and found Harry behind him. 'Oh, perfect timing!' he exclaimed. 'I almost had him spilling all Malfoy's secrets there!'

Harry laughed. 'Somehow I doubt that, Ron,' he replied. 'He was playing you, just like Malfoy; it seems they've learnt something off him after all. Crabbe actually tried to chat to me about greyhound racing; he seemed to be under some weird misapprehension that because I lived with Muggles, we must have gone to the dog track every weekend. It was very strange.'

Ron laughed. 'It's because of those study topics we all got on our invitations; I think Dumbledore must have picked the most outlandish things he could think of for the Slytherins to research. At least most of ours were logical or obvious!'

'Hmm,' Harry agreed thoughtfully. He looked around the room critically, 'So how do you think it's actually going then?' He asked. 'It does sort of seem like everyone is mingling together well, don't you think?'

'I don't know, Harry. I think after seeing Hermione march up and ask Professor Snape to dance anything would look good! I swear I thought I was going to drop right off my chair for a minute there!'

'Yes, I don't think I could ever have seen that coming! But at least he didn't embarrass her or show her up. Do you think Dumbledore had that planned with her beforehand?'

'I don't know,' Ron said, 'I suppose it's possible; we don't get to see as much of her as we did the other years - even with the prefect meetings, there's still loads of stuff she has to do which we don't have to get involved in. I'm just glad for her sake that the ferret seems to have toned down the racist comments a bit this year. I'm still not happy that she has to share rooms with him though; not one bit.' He added darkly.

Harry gazed at his friend thoughtfully, 'Are you okay about Hermione now?' He asked. 'I didn't want to pry before, but I know you were really hurting when she decided to put a hold on your relationship. Do you still think you'll get back together after this year is finished?'

Ron blinked a couple of times, and turned slightly so that he wasn't quite looking Harry in the eye. 'I would never turn Mione away,' he mumbled, his voice getting quieter, 'But - well, but I think - I believe she was trying to let me down gently...'

Oh, Ron!' Harry sighed sympathetically. He couldn't reassure his friend for that was also the conclusion he had come to himself. Which created another problem in his eyes. 'What's going on with Luna then?' He asked carefully. 'Ginny seems to think she's really keen on you, and she's awfully fond of Luna - I think she'd get really mad if you ended up hurting her.'

This caused Ron to give a short bark of humorless laughter. 'Luna is very - single-minded,' he admitted dryly. 'We had a bit of a - thing, if you want to call it that, at the beginning of 6th year. She was quite forceful, as I remember it; didn't take no for an answer. Then just as suddenly, she changed her mind and told me it wasn't going to work - said I wasn't ready yet, and just like that she went right back to being her usual self, as if nothing had ever happened. I was rather surprised you know, when she said she'd go to the Halloween Ball with me; then she got all cryptic on me and kept saying things like It won't be long now and weird Luna-speak.'

At this point the turned and look directly at Harry. 'Of course, now I think I know what she was on about - it being over for me and Hermione - sometimes she's too spooky to be real, you know. Seems like she's years older than the lot of us, and she's just humoring our little teenage fancies. I don't think Ginny needs to worry about Luna though - she knows exactly what's going on - I just wish she'd let me in on it!

Harry swallowed nervously. That certainly hadn't been the reaction he'd been after with his query, but it seemed to have helped Ron to get it off his chest. He turned and studied the dancers. 'She looks gorgeous tonight, doesn't she,' Ron commented sadly, his eyes resting on their friend. 'Hardly like our Mione at all. She's cleaned up real nice in that dress and a few minutes with Lavender's make up brush.'

'Why don't you go and dance with her?' Harry asked gently. It was obvious that Ron was still hurting on the inside, even though he was trying to accept the finality of their parting.

'Nah,' Ron said after only a very brief moment of hesitation. 'It's probably not a brilliant idea. You go though - have one for both of us.'

Harry studied his friend closely. 'Are you sure, Ron?' He asked. 'I've done all my circulating. I can just hang out here if you want?'

'No, I'm sure - one of us should definitely make the effort, or she'll be miffed with us tomorrow. I think I might brave old Snape's table and ask Tonks to dance with me. Go on then.' With that he pushed his chair away from the table and stalked off leaving Harry alone to ponder the vagaries of the human heart. He suddenly wished very much that Ginny had been able to come tonight. He missed his girlfriend, and she was so much better at this emotional stuff than he was. Ginny would have known the right thing to say to her brother; Harry wasn't sure if he hadn't made Ron feel worse rather than better.

He got up and entered the dance floor winding through the dancers until he found Hermione and Terry just parting company at the end of a fast song. 'Sorry. My turn now,' he said to Ernie MacMillan who was approaching fast from the other side. 'Gryffindor privilege.' Hermione gave an apologetic glance to Ernie, and mouthed Next one? as Harry took her hand and turned her towards him.

'That was very high-handed and arrogant, Mr Potter,' she scolded without heat. 'Pulling rank like that! We're not supposed to be fraternizing with our own Houses tonight you know. As Head Girl, I should really reprimand you severely for preventing Gryffindor-Hufflepuff interaction!'

'Oh, stuff it, Hermione!' Harry replied remorselessly, and she giggled. 'Do you think it's a success then?' He asked curiously. His friend seemed quite pleased with herself this evening, so he could only assume the answer to that was in the affirmative, unless Malfoy or Snape had slipped something into her drinks?

'Yes, I do think so. You know, I talked to Morag MacDougal for ages tonight; she's such a nice girl, I can't believe I never made friends with her before. What a waste, to finally discover someone with so short a time left to the end of school,' Hermione's voice trailed away, and she looked saddened by her thoughts. Harry wondered again if she had been drinking; her mood seemed oddly erratic.

'Hmm, what was all that - dragging Snape onto the dance floor earlier then?' He teased, wanting her out of her melancholy quickly. Nothing like a Slytherin to provoke a reaction!

'Hah!' Hermione replied, rising beautifully to the bait. 'I had to prove a point! And I think I did so spectacularly well, don't you?'

'Well, I might if I knew what the point was,' Harry agreed carefully, but he was not destined to discover it tonight for just as Hermione opened her mouth to reply, the Headmaster appeared behind them, hoping to interrupt.

Ah, Miss Granger, Harry!' he said jovially. 'You won't object too much if I cut in and take our talented and beautiful Head Girl away from you will you, Harry?' he twinkled, 'Only my poor old limbs won't be up to much more dancing tonight, and I would love to take a turn around the floor with Miss Granger before I have to surrender to their demands!'

'Of course not, Sir,' Harry said politely as he stepped away from Hermione. 'I'll see you later then, Mione?' he added as he left them there.

Dumbledore smiled widely at Hermione. 'What an excellent job you have done Miss Granger. I couldn't have asked for a more delightful evening than this which you and Mr Malfoy have supplied for us.' He twirled her quickly around the dance floor in something reminiscent of a foxtrot. Hermione thought it likely that she would be wilting long before the Headmaster flagged. He even had breath spare to be humming as he danced.

Thank you, Sir,' she relied breathlessly. 'Did everyone manage to get a passing mark for their study topic?' Dumbledore twinkled even more than usual, and Hermione dared to ask a question that she had been pondering since she first received her blue invitation. 'Excuse my forwardness, Sir - but were you really going to mark people down on their NEWTS for not researching their subject?'

Dumbledore laughed outright at this. 'Well, I expect we will never know, my dear, since you and Mr Malfoy did such an excellent job of motivating your classmates into doing as they were asked. But if I do say so myself, I think it was one of my better ideas for promoting inter-house unity. Madam Pince tells me that over half the books in the Muggle studies section were checked out at one point this week!'

Dumbledore gazed around the room and seemed to find what he was seeking, spinning Hermione across the dance floor as he continued, 'I can only think of a few more effective ways of uniting the Houses than -' but his wisdom went unspoken for he appeared to suddenly spy Professor McGonagall close by them, and decide he should share the next dance with his deputy.

'Ah, Minerva my dear! I do believe the next song is for you and I to dance together, and then I shall be done for the evening! Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy - you don't mind a small exchange of partners now, do you? Good, good! Let's be off and show these youngsters how to jive, Minerva!'

He took the deputy headmistress into his arms and they spun away, leaving the Head Students standing awkwardly together. 'Albus,' McGonagall said reprovingly. 'Could you be any more obvious? Do you honestly think that abandoning them in the middle of the dance floor is going to work?'

'Every little bit helps, my dear,' Dumbledore replied thoughtfully. 'If it was anyone than Miss Granger who set off Miss Parkinson's little alarm I would eat my hat! Do you honestly think he could have taken someone else to bed when he looks at her like that.' He nodded back to where they had left the students standing. 'I do wish he hadn't restrained all the portraits in the suite; it would make my calculations so much easier. But, Minerva - I really do think we've got him!'

***********

Hermione, whose attention had been fixed on Draco from the second she saw him across the room with Professor McGonagall, felt suddenly shy and awkward as the two teachers swept off and left them standing there, unsure of whether to simply step into each other's arms, or if that would give them away.

Then the song changed, and Hermione's eyes flew up to Draco's with a soft 'Oh!' for the tune which was now being attempted by the band was Breathe, the same song which had caused her so much confusion at the Halloween Ball.

Obviously the opening bars had the same effect on Draco; his lips parted in a faint gasp, and without further thought, they came together for the first time this evening. Hermione could feel his sigh of satisfaction as she came to rest against his body, and he whispered into her ear, hardly moving his lips, 'You should always wear green, Granger. Do you have any idea what it does to me to see you wearing my colours?' his breath stirred her dragon earrings and a quick thrust of his hips against her stomach as they executed a turn, left her in no doubt as to his meaning. She moaned and stumbled slightly, weak from the sudden wave of lust that accompanied his words and actions.

He took her hand and brought it up to rest on the soft black velvet of his robes, just over his heart, and for a moment longer than was necessary his fingers curled over hers, and pressed her hand hard enough for her to feel how fast his heart was racing.

'I got it for you,' she confessed breathlessly, and then gasped in embarrassment that the words could have fallen uncensored from her mouth; she flushed shyly as Draco grinned his head off at this revelation.

'I can't wait to see what it'll look like on the floor in my bedroom,' he muttered into her ear. 'After I've stripped it off you inch by inch, until you're wet and trembling in my arms - and I'm so hard I can't even stand up. Merlin, who am I kidding - I'm already like that!'

Hermione gasped and cast a frantic glance around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to them. If Ron or Harry heard him talk like this, they wouldn't stop to ask questions first. She looked urgently up at him, 'You can't, Draco. Not here!' she hissed.

Although he thought she looked utterly adorable, flustered and embarrassed, Draco understood the sense in her urgent words. It was far too dangerous teasing her like that in public. It made him forget that they weren't alone, narrowed his vision down to one thing and that was how much he wanted her; if he didn't get a hold of himself he would end up taking her right in the middle of this damned dance floor for everyone to see, and that would certainly give them something to talk about.

'So,' he mumbled a moment later, 'Is this our song now, then?'

Hermione, who had previously imagined that only girls were mushy enough to think that there was such a thing as 'Our Song', melted into a metaphoric puddle of romantic goo at this statement. She allowed her cheek to rub briefly against his shoulder as they turned again, hoping the gesture would be covered up by the change of direction. 'Hmm, I think so,' she whispered back. 'The words are....' she trailed off, not wanting to admit things which had barely even formed themselves into thoughts yet.

'Very accurate,' he finished for her, as he sang softly along with the band on the stage, and Hermione felt her legs turning to water; if he hadn't been holding her, she would no doubt have fallen over her own two feet.

It felt suddenly as if they were hovering on the brink of something very important, and Hermione shivered with the significance of the moment - which never came to be. Just as she waited for something which was going to change her life, Lavender Brown bumped into them from their left, with such force that Draco staggered sideways and had to let go of her to steady himself or fall on his arse. Lavender winked knowingly at Hermione, and she realised with a sinking stomach that the other girl thought she had done her a favour by intervening in what must be a very uncomfortable experience.

Apparently, their intense silence did not portray to casual observers the impression that something incredibly significant was just about to happen; apparently it looked more like the uncomfortable silence of two people who had nothing whatsoever to say to each other.

Before Draco could even collect himself and regain his footing, Professor Dumbledore appeared by Lavender's shoulder. 'Ah! Still dancing, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy? I'm sure you won't mind running a little errand for me, would you?' Without waiting for a reply, he continued, 'I really believe you should be giving a personal thanks to Mr Pringle for all his help and assistance in making tonight so successful. Run along now, to his office. Perhaps you could even prevail upon him to make an appearance here so that everyone could meet him?'

Lavender pulled a face at Hermione, confident that the Headmaster couldn't see it, behind her as he was. Hermione knew it was meant to convey regret that her diversion hadn't worked, and sympathy that she was still stuck with Draco. However, when they turned obediently to exit the ballroom and follow Dumbledore's directions, Draco was wearing an reluctantly admiring grin.

'You know,' he muttered as they trailed across the almost deserted lobby, 'I don't think I ever gave the old man credit for quite how sneaky he actually is before.'

'What?' Hermione asked, still confused from the sudden arrest of her hormones, and the flurry of activity which had followed.

'Don't you see how sly that was?' Draco asked. 'You reckon he knows - there's your proof!' Hermione looked even more confused. 'He's just given us the perfect opportunity to be alone, and at the same time, more or less announced to the school gossip that we have to disappear together to run him an errand. If anyone even notices we're both missing, she'll be more than happy to tell them how the poor, overworked, put-upon Head Girl had to run off and do the Headmaster's dirty work with that nasty, mean Slytherin Head Boy. I've really underestimated him!'

Hermione, of course, worried about these conclusions. 'But do you think -' she puffed when Draco speeded up as he neared the archway which led to the corridor of administrative offices for the Hotel. He grabbed her hand as they passed into the dimly lit hallway, and muttered harshly, 'No - I'm not thinking clearly at all right now!' before swinging her around and slamming her hard against the wall with the full length of his body and bringing his mouth down on hers, his tongue sliding between her slightly parted lips and playing with her own until she was whimpering in her throat and rubbing herself against the rigid length of his erection, pressed hot and hard against her stomach.

Hermione's fingers clutched at his hair, holding him to her; in truth she too had been waiting for this all night. All the shared dances with the other students and teachers had only seemed like so much wasted time when where she really wanted to be was here with him. His actions at the dinner table had only served to arouse her, and she had been left in a state of simmering lust for most of the evening. Brief occasional glances of him across the space of the dance floor had done little to allow the desire to recede.

She kissed him urgently, but although she wanted this desperately, one part of her brain retained enough sense to know how dangerous it was to be doing this out in the open, where anyone could catch them.

When Draco finally drew away to breathe and buried his face into her neck, panting, she managed to gasp out. 'Draco - we can't - what if somebody comes...'

'They won't,' he mumbled into her skin, his breath hot and sensuous. 'Not anyone from Hogwarts anyway; these corridors have disillusionment charms on them to keep the guests away from the administrative areas.' He licked a path up to her ear, and she shivered, struggling to maintain a hold on her thoughts.

'H - how do you know that,' she gasped, trying to remain focused as he began edging her robes up so that he could stroke her leg through the long slit at the side.

'The porter who brought us here that first day explained it,' Draco whispered, sucking gently on her neck, not quite hard enough to make a mark, but sufficient to make her legs weak. 'That's why we had to be brought here, a member of staff had to lead us past the charms or they would have affected us too. Weren't you listening?'

Hermione was barely listening now, entirely too caught up in what he was doing to her, but the sudden closing of a door further down the corridor brought her to her senses and she finally gathered her wits enough to wriggle away from the seductive devil.

'We have to get Pringle,' she said in a shaky but firm voice, brushing her robes down and trying to make herself look less ravished.

Draco grunted, and ran his hands through his hair in his own attempt to smooth back the curls which had been disturbed by her questing fingers. 'Okay,' he mumbled, 'But I want to get the first coach back from this damned place. You don't know what it's been doing to me all night, seeing you in that dress, dancing with everyone but me.'

Hermione took a couple of step towards Pringle's office, and from the safety of this distance, replied slyly. 'Oh, I think I might - if it's anything like what watching you has done to me!'

She knocked firmly on Pringle's door before Draco had the opportunity to respond, and they heard the manager's voice call them in. 'Later, witch!' Draco muttered, fondling her behind surreptitiously as they entered the office.

Dilman Pringle was seated at his desk surrounded by parchments; a dictoquill was rapidly taking notes and his hologram of the Ballroom hovered over the left hand side of his desk. He looked up at them curiously as they walked in. 'Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy,' he greeted. 'What brings you here? I would have thought your little soirée was in full swing right now. Shouldn't you be there playing host to the other guests?'

Hermione and Draco exchanged glances. 'Actually, Mr Pringle, Professor Dumbledore sent us to ask you if you would join us in the Ballroom for a short while. I think he would like to speak to you personally, and we are the only people who have been led though the charms on the staff areas,' Draco said politely, as if he had never yelled at the man just a couple of hours previously.

Pringle regarded them through narrowed eyes, and seemed to make a decision. He waved his wand briefly, and all the parchments on his desk rolled themselves up and his model of the Ballroom evaporated into mist.

'I am glad to see that you have finally consummated your volatile relationship. Perhaps now you will be able to concentrate on more important things.' He said thoughtfully, as his eyes swept over them; they stared horrified at him and then each other, and Pringle sighed in exasperation. 'Or not,' he concluded irritably. 'Oh for Merlin's sake, I suggest you take a moment to compose yourselves and I will meet you shortly.' He swept out of his office muttering about hormones and disrespect.

'What did he mean by that?' Hermione squeaked out when they were alone. 'Oh my God! If he only had to take one look at us and figure it out, what are all the others thinking?'

'Nothing, I expect,' Draco replied. 'Pringle is hardly your average wizard, is he? I wouldn't imagine there are many people in the Ballroom tonight who think on the same latitude that he does!'

'I suppose not,' Hermione conceded reluctantly. She looked around the office - since Pringle had exited the lights had automatically dimmed; they seemed to be charmed to his presence. 'Do you think he expects us to wait here for him?'

Draco didn't answer; he was to busy watching his witch in the new subdued lighting. All sorts of lascivious thoughts were manifesting themselves in his head, and despite the fact that they were guests in someone else's office, he couldn't resist the lure of his imagination. He had found out in the past week that it really aroused Hermione when he talked to her while they were making love, but so far he had confined himself to telling her how much he wanted her, how beautiful she was and praising her innocent explorations of his own body. All of a sudden he wondered if she would get equally turned on if he talked dirty to her.

Of course, immediately the idea occurred to him, he could feel himself getting harder than ever. Before he could over-think what he was about to do, he stepped up behind her and whispered in her ear, 'Granger, I want to fuck you so bad right now, that I'm shaking with it!'

'What?' Hermione squeaked; her cheeks flared with colour at his crude words, but she couldn't deny that they caused a wave of heat to gather between her legs. She shifted from one foot to the other trying not to press her thighs together too obviously, and took a step back from him. Draco merely prowled closer, his eyes hot and dark on hers. 'Don't - don't say things like that here -' she gasped, trying to sound authoritative but failing; he was slowly but surely maneuvering her back against the wall.

'I want to take you now,' he muttered hotly in her ear as he pressed her back against the wall. 'I want to fuck you hard against this wall, until the only thing keeping you upright is my cock in your pussy. I want your legs wrapped around me as you come, your nails scratching my back and you moaning my name as I fill your tight little hole up with my spunk.'

By the time the last word was out of his mouth he had her pressed against the wall, in a similar position to the one they had adopted in the corridor, but that was where the similarity ended, and Draco was happy to find that his guess about his little witch was spot on. Who would have ever expected the prim and proper Gryffindor Ice Princess had a kinky side?

The Head Girl was sagging against the wall her eyes glazed, her chest heaving to catch a breath, but her eyes were practically black with lust, and she was subconsciously rubbing her thighs together in a manner which made all the blood in Draco's brain rush south. But the responsible side of Hermione was making a game effort to retain control of the situation.

''He told us to compose ourselves,' she squeaked, trying to sidestep Draco. 'Not have a quickie on his desk!'

'I didn't mention the desk, not this time - I want to do you against the wall, with both of us fully dressed, knowing that Pringle could come back any minute,' Draco grabbed her hand and brought it inside his robes, pressing her fingers hard against his aching cock. 'I know I won't be composed again until I get rid of this,' he whispered. 'Hell, I can hardly move at the moment.' He rubbed their joined hands up and down causing a whimper to break from her lips. 'Come on Granger - he practically gave us permission. Telling us he knew we'd been together, and then leaving us alone here. He all but spelt it out...'

Hermione moaned. 'He didn't - he didn't - that wasn't what he meant...' she gasped. She knew there was something terribly wrong with his reasoning, but her mind was so fogged with the lust his words had conjured that she couldn't quite grasp what it was. She knew that she shouldn't be so turned on by his using such crude and graphic descriptions of what he wanted to do to her.

A week ago, she would have probably hexed him if he had spoken to her like this, would have assumed he meant it in the crudest, most insulting way possible. How much had changed in the space of seven short days! What a difference had been wrought in the simple interpretation of a string of mere words. She wanted it exactly the way he had described it to her; hard and fast and raw; in fact if he didn't take her now she feared she might actually attack him.

Her hand had taken over the stroking of his shaft and his had moved away and was currently rubbing circles around her sensitive nipples through the velvet of her robes. She ripped at the fastening of his dress trousers, until she managed to release his penis so that it stood up hard and hot and slick between them. He had to grab her hand and still the movement of her fingers lest he loose it right there.

He grabbed handfuls of the green robes and bunched it up around her waist, allowing his fingers to stroke over her buttocks, 'Are you wearing one of those thong things again?' he asked hoarsely and she grunted even while he discovered the answer for himself. 'I'm going to rip it off you and carry it in my pocket for the rest of the night!' He whispered, suiting action to the words. Hermione whimpered as the fabric scraped across her already sensitive flesh, but she nearly came when he lifted the skimpy bit of red satin up and took a deep breath of the damp musky fabric.

The next moment he had his hands cupping her behind and he lifted her up from the floor guiding her legs around his waist and stretching her open so that he could slide her slowly and tormentingly down onto his swollen cock. He whimpered as her right hand slipped between their thrusting bodies and guided him home. It was the first time she had actively assisted in their joining and the touch of her fingers against his bursting penis at the point of their union drove him wild with lust. This was going to be over very quickly.

His own legs were shaking with the force of his gathering climax, and they were both sagging against the wall, as he thrust urgently into the furnace -like depths of her body. He could feel the muscles in her legs quivering as they clamped around his waist; she was panting disjointed words and groans into his ear, the muscles of her pussy spasming vice-like around his cock.

'Mina!' He gasped shuddering, he could feel it starting, feel his cum boiling up in his testicles, swelling and hardening them until they couldn't contain the immense pressure any longer - he felt with a crystal clarity the very instant at which his seed exploded from his balls to shoot agonizingly hot and thick along the length of his straining cock until it released in a torrent into her clutching womb. 'Coming - coming!' He couldn't have stopped now even if Pringle himself and the whole population of the Ballroom had walked through the office door, with the Boy-Who-Lived himself in the lead.

'Yes!'

she whimpered, nail digging into his back as she convulsed around him in absolute perfect unity, and stars exploded behind his eyes.Hermione was the first to regain her senses, possibly because she was bearing the whole of Draco's weight as he sagged limply against her, crushing her between his body and the wall, unable to stay upright on his trembling legs without support. She started to feel little discomforts, like the inability to breathe, and the stickiness of their combined release leaking out of her body. She unlocked her legs from his waist and struggled back onto her own feet, wincing as he slipped from her body and released an even greater flood of juices to trickle down the inside of her thighs.

'Oh, God,' she moaned, mortified. 'I cannot believe we just did that. I did that! Here - in Pringle's office! In the middle of the Social Evening!'

Draco leant limply against the wall beside her, waiting for his brain cells to repair themselves, post orgasm. 'Fuck! That was fantastic,' he muttered. 'I can hardly move. Who knew you were so kinky, Granger?'

Hermione smacked him hard on his left shoulder, causing his head to snap back against the wall, and clearing the remnants of the orgasmic high from his brain. 'Ow! What did you do that for?' He complained.

'I am not. Don't say things like that!' She hissed. 'We have to get back to the Ballroom; if Pringle is already there, and we aren't people will start wondering.' She slipped her wand from the concealed sheath along the side seam of her robes, and cast a quick Scourgify over herself and Draco, who had some suspicious sticky white stains around the fly of his very expensive trousers.

She looked around Pringle's office and shuddered. Now that the fog of arousal had been satisfied she was horrified and embarrassed that she could have wantonly allowed - even encouraged - Draco to seduce her up against a wall in an almost total stranger's private room. It seemed so disrespectful, that she could hardly begin to conceive of how she had allowed it to happen. Well, because she couldn't resist the damned Slytherin, that was how! He just had to look at her that way and she was ready to let him do anything. Bugger it. He was probably right - she was kinky, and a lot of other things she had never imagined herself to be before the start of her 7th year.

'Hey,' Draco caught her wrist as she turned to leave the room. 'There's nothing wrong with kinky,' he said seriously. 'As long as it's what we both want and we're not hurting anyone else, and we respect each other's boundaries. Believe me, I intend to do a lot more to you than just take you against a wall someplace where anyone could catch us. So you better get used to the idea, because I'm only just getting started.' He pulled her hand down to his still open trousers closing her fingers around his already semi-erect penis, and whispered, 'You have to put your toys away when you're finished playing with them, Hermione.'

By the time Hermione had struggled with the buttons on his fly and cursed wizarding tailors for refusing to adopt useful Muggle innovations like the zip, Draco was already nearly as hard as he had been before their interlude, and she herself just wanted to tell the rest of the guests to go hang themselves and rent a room for the night, so that she could just get right on with exploring her kinky side.


	40. Chapter 40

This was supposed to have been the best year of her life; this was the year she had finally intended to catch Draco Malfoy. She had planned it out in minute detail, spent the whole summer poring over dusty old books on sex magic and subconscious attractants, and still she was failing.

She sat at her table - oh, not the one she had been assigned to - sulking and looking for a scapegoat to vent her frustrations on. Draco was nowhere to be seen, sent to run an errand with that foul Gryffindor by the Headmaster, according to the Brown girl. Pansy had no argument with Lavender Brown; her blood was old, and if not for the misfortune of her House, Pansy might have considered her as a candidate for her own entourage.

7th year had so far turned out to be the complete opposite of what Pansy had been hoping for. Draco was further away than ever; except for one promising episode soon after the beginning of term, he had been positively glacial with her. Instead of giving her the password to his single room so that they could have some serious private time - something Pansy had been looking forward to since she found out he had been appointed Head Boy - she was fairly sure he had in fact actually added wards around the doors which were designed to repel her specifically.

Although Draco and the Mudblood didn't conduct counseling or prefect meetings in the Head Student suite as some of their predecessors (the ones who presumably were on better terms with each other) had, Pansy still knew her way to the study and had received a very nasty burn as a result of trying to knock on the door shortly after that occasion in the potions corridor when Draco had almost allowed her to suck him off. Casual prying revealed that although no one else had gained admittance to the rooms, neither had they received such physical manifestations of their rejection.

Pansy's sheer desperation had been such that she had even lowered herself to ask for help from the last person she ever wanted anything to do with; Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Head Girl. And for that to have ended as it had, with Granger blowing her off, and actually daring to pity her - to give her advice on how to catch a man! - was beyond intolerable in Pansy's eyes. Granger was going to suffer for that, in ways she could barely conceive of. But first she had to deal with the fall-out over her aborted attempt to spy on Draco's sex-life.

She had seriously miscalculated the degree of support that she would receive within Slytherin House for her claim to Draco Malfoy. While in the depths of her subconscious she might admit to herself that the effect her alarm had produced may have been slightly (okay - phenomenally) more volatile than she had anticipated, was it really a valid reason for her to become the focus of ribald jokes, the object of nervous glances and the subject of secretive giggling which always stopped the moment she moved within earshot?

The girls who had always looked up to her before the debacle last Saturday had started sending her pitying glances, and there were whispering cliques in every corner of the common room. The boys kept whistling at her and making crude gestures with their fingers. However, there was still enough Slytherin solidarity that word of the aborted hex had not reached the ears of the other Houses. Pansy might be a social pariah in her own House, but the Slytherins had closed in around their own and kept their dirty linen private.

Pansy tried to maintain her dignity and behave as if nothing had happened, but underlying all the shame and embarrassment at having so publicly failed in what she set out to do, was the even deeper pain of knowing that Draco wanted another witch - someone who wasn't her. For despite all the extraneous benefits that she would have enjoyed as Malfoy's consort, the fact remained as she had told Granger back at the beginning of term when desperation had driven her to ask the Gryffindor for help, that Pansy did love Malfoy as much as she was capable of loving anyone; now she was hurt and humiliated and backed into a corner. A very dangerous place to put a vindictive witch.

Even worse in Pansy's eyes at the opposite end of the week from Hell, was the fact that no one seemed to have any better idea now than on the night of the eruption who the girl with Draco had been. It was almost inconceivable that in a sequestered space like the castle no one, not one single individual had any inkling of just whom Draco had fucked into the Hogwarts record books last Saturday night.

Even Mary and Millie who had been her constant support and solace for the first part of the week, had soon tired of listening to her speculate on the identity of the witch in question. Pansy was quite sure she had considered and rejected as a possibility, every female over the age of fourteen in the school, and even some of the more developed younger girls, although she knew Draco's fastidiousness well enough to realise that he would never entertain the thought of taking a girl that young.

The one single person whom Pansy thought might be in possession of an accurate guess was Blaise Zabini, but she knew there was no use in asking him to share his suspicions unless she had something to offer in exchange. She had been having a bit of fun with Zabini whilst waiting for Draco to fall in line, and she realised belatedly that this was another huge mistake on her behalf. Zabini was too cunning and wily to be romancing her solely for the pleasure of her company, and if Draco found out it would seem like she had lost interest in him; why had it taken her so long to work this out? Oh, yes! Because she was smarting from Draco's lack of interest, and the flattering attention of a very handsome and sophisticated wizard had been a balm to her bruised ego. Look at me, I have Zabini tied around my little finger. Not!

Blaise definitely had some ulterior motive in playing with her; she would have to wait and see if he was acting independently or if his sudden interest in her was tied in to some scheme of Draco's.

And tonight another problem had raised it's head. One she hadn't paused to consider before. The fact that Professor Snape might have found out what had happened that night. The Head of Slytherin had always been possessed of an uncanny ability to appear in the common room just when things might have been on the verge of getting out of hand. He hadn't materialized the night her alarm went off, but it was too much to have hoped that he didn't know about it by now.

Draco's decision to sit Pansy next to Professor Snape (and Pansy was quite sure this had been Draco's doing), had obviously been a punishment for her presumption. She assumed he was hoping that Snape would ream her out for her intrusion, and totally ruin the night for her. She could only be grateful that he had no idea quite how effective a punishment it had actually been.

The one single event which had produced even more embarrassment to Pansy than the eruption of her volcano last week, had been the occasion at the end of 5th year when she had tried to proposition Professor Snape in return for better marks. Only the fact that there had been no witnesses to that event, made it bearable for Pansy to return to school in her 6th year. Otherwise she might have asked to transfer to Beauxbatons, future Mrs Draco Malfoy or not.

She hadn't dared look Professor Snape in the eye once from that day to this, and to find herself seated at his left hand had almost - almost, mind - driven from her head the awful knowledge of Draco's new lover. How she had survived the meal, she would never know. Her stomach had been in revolt, and her bowels rumbling nervously throughout the whole of dinner had resulted in two rushed trips to the bathroom, accompanied by knowing smirks from the Potions Master.

She had refused invitations to dance from both Greg and Vince earlier this evening; they were yet another part of her problem - if Draco hadn't spent so much time on the pair of them in the past three years, she might have been able to create a better toehold in his life than she had. She glared at them venomously as they asked, and they had seemed extremely grateful to scuttle off and find alternative partners.

It didn't help in any way to realise that obedient to the spirit of the evening, they were both now stumbling around the room with partners from other Houses; Greg with Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw, and Vince with a befuddled-looking Lavender Brown. How could it be that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had managed to find girls to dance with them whilst she, Pansy Parkinson, was huddled alone in a dark corner, unwanted and overlooked.

Even Blaise had abandoned her tonight; although she was hardly obsessing over his whereabouts when she had Snape and Draco to worry about. She had managed to see him twirl past on separate occasions with Professor McGonagall, that weird young witch with purple hair from the ministry, a Hufflepuff, a couple of Ravenclaws, and even once that piece of filth, Hermione Granger, the Head Girl herself - although, and Pansy thought this deliberate - he had kept to the very far side of the dance floor from where she sat stewing when he had been dancing with her!

Mary and Millie had tried talking to her shortly after the meal ended and she had retreated to this secluded table, but soon gave up trying to get her to join in the dancing, leaving with alacrity when invited to dance by two boys Pansy didn't even try to recognise.

Suddenly feeling as if she was being watched, Pansy looked up from her examination of the tablecloth and found herself to be held under the speculative glance of the Headmaster. Oh, Merlin, don't let him ask me to dance! She thought in dismay. She had of course watched him take the floor with the Mudblood earlier, and with one or two other students, but surely he would never invite her! One could not refuse Professor Dumbledore.

She was reprieved from ever knowing if that had been his intention (if one could call the sight which met her eyes a reprieve) by a sudden commotion at the main doors to the Ballroom. Grateful for the opportunity to break eye contact with the Headmaster, she turned quickly to see what the disturbance was, and almost immediately wished she had been subjected to the dance with Dumbledore.

Draco had returned to the Ballroom; he was disheveled and looked irritated. Granger accompanied him, looking equally put-out, and Pansy concluded another argument had occurred out of sight of the ever-watchful eye of the Headmaster who seemed determined to make a success of his incomprehensible selection for this year's peer leaders. She wondered hopefully if their disturbed appearance meant that physical violence had occurred - or even better, hexing?

Walking in between the Head Students, an arm linked with each of them, was the most flamboyant individual Pansy had ever seen. Everything about him screamed Look at me! and even Pansy found it hard to ignore him in favour of staring at Draco.

It was the Headmaster who finally drew her eyes away from the visitor. He clapped his hands together and momentarily the conversation and music hushed in the room, whilst all eyes turned to Dumbledore as he made his way towards the entering trio.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, students and honored guests,' he began, barely raising his voice but commanding everyone's attention. 'I would just like to take a moment to introduce to you Mr Dilman Pringle, function coordinator for the Felton Arms Hotel. Without his expert guidance and assistance I am sure our Head Students would have had a much tougher time of making this event as enjoyable and successful as it has been.'

A small smattering of applause rippled around the room, until Granger firmly clapped her hands together and the rest of the guests joined in. Pringle bowed low to the floor, sweeping his purple cloak out dramatically behind him. Dumbledore continued jovially, 'Yes, a splendid night, I think. Please also favour your Head Boy and Girl with a round of applause; Draco - Hermione, a bow, too if you please.'

Pansy swallowed back on her bile and turned away, unable to bear the sight of Draco and that ugly Mudblood sharing the same breathing space. Unfortunately, this brought her face to face with the one person she wanted to see least of all tonight; Professor Snape.

'Miss Parkinson,' he said in his oiliest tone. 'It appears we have the matter of a large disturbance in the Slytherin commons to address. My intelligence tells me that you are the author of this disturbance; of course, I would hate to spoil the last week of Christmas term, so I think - detention, in my office to be served the first day back of next term. Shall we say 8.00pm? I'll see you there, Miss Parkinson.'

He was gone as silently as he had approached, leaving Pansy quaking in her shoes, her already ruined Christmas now in tatters around her feet with this new problem to haunt her for the whole of the break.

**********

After restoring their appearance, Draco and Hermione decided not to wait for Pringle in his office. Hermione was too embarrassed; she felt he would be able to immediately tell what they had done, especially in light of his previous assessment of the state of their relationship.

'Please let's wait for him in the lobby,' she entreated Draco as she backed towards the door, and he decided he had pushed his little witch as far as was wise for one night. Hermione had shown no particular tendency to spare him the sharp edge of her tongue despite the many other uses he had shown her for it. She had whacked him more times since she allowed him into her bed than in the previous six years put together. His little Lioness had quite the violent side to her, he had found - although he was quite sure she would classify them as 'love taps' or some such euphemism. He supposed he should have suspected as much - had he not after all been at the wrong end of her temper in 3rd year? The Head Girl was as bossy and organizing in her private life as her academics. What an excellent thing then that he found it such an enormous turn on.

He acceded to her request, and after casting a last glance around Pringle's office to ensure there were no obvious traces of their activities, he followed her back towards the lobby admiring the sway of her bum moulded by the drape of the velvet robes.

To Hermione's disconcertion, they found Dilman Pringle leaning against the reception desk talking to the witch on duty as they exited from the staff corridor. He straightened up as he saw them and his face scrunched up into an offended frown.

Hermione fought to keep a flush from her face, immediately convinced that he knew just exactly how they had abused his hospitality. What was it about Draco bloody Malfoy that made her turn her back on common sense and loose all sight of propriety? She was still agonizing about her own culpability when Pringle sighed and approached them.

'Dismal,' he said, shaking his head as he looked them up and down. He produced his mauve wand from somewhere amidst his robes and flicked it at them a couple of times before nodding in satisfaction at his own endeavors. Hermione thought irritably that he might be the only person she had ever met with an even bigger ego than Malfoy's own.

'That's better,' Pringle concluded as he tucked his wand away. 'At least now everyone won't be able to tell what you've been up to. You really should try to perfect your restoration charms if you intend to indulge in illicit assignations in semi-public places.'

Draco scowled angrily and looked on the verge of hexing the older wizard; his hand automatically reached for his wand, but Hermione who was by now beyond mortified at the knowledge that they had been caught, grabbed at his arm and pleaded with her eyes for him to leave it alone.

'Now, let's go and get this meet and greet over with, shall we?' Pringle continued blithely, seemingly unconcerned or unaware that he had simultaneously embarrassed and enraged his companions. He stepped between Hermione and Draco, effectively disengaging Hermione's grip, and then proceeded to wrap one of his own arms around each of theirs as he propelled them towards the doors to the Ballroom.

Across the expanse of Pringle's purple-clad chest, Hermione could see that Draco looked extremely irritated; he was blatantly unaccustomed to being treated like a recalcitrant schoolboy by people in the service industry, and Pringle's complete and utter disregard for his name and opinion was obviously something he had never encountered before.

If she hadn't been so ashamed of her own behaviour in Pringle's office, she might have been forced to find it funny. As it was she was too flustered by memories of her complicity to fully appreciate the irony of Draco Malfoy being put in his place by an (in his own words) cream puff of a wizard.

The doors to the Ballroom swung open dramatically before them, leading Hermione to suppose that Pringle had some kind of enchantment on them to respond to his proximity, and Pringle swept them into the room on his robe-tails, leaving no time for protest or preparation.

It was a testament to Pringle's flamboyant personality that most activity in the Ballroom had ceased even before Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands and introduced the man. Tying to get a grip on her embarrassment, Hermione was happy to focus on encouraging the desultory applause from the gathered crowd, and began clapping enthusiastically, whilst pinning a large (and painful) smile onto her face.

Dumbledore approached them, beaming and twinkling, taking Pringle's hand within both of his and shaking it forcefully. 'Please, come and sit a while,' he entreated the younger wizard and drew him away to one of the closer tables. He beckoned to Hermione and Draco to follow them, and although Hermione would have rather been anywhere than at a table with someone who could so easily let their secret slip, a direct instruction from the Headmaster could not be ignored. Maybe it was actually a good thing; at least she could monitor what Pringle was saying to Professor Dumbledore.

She and Draco took seats on opposite sides of the table; it seemed as though Draco was equally keen to draw Pringle's attention away from the state of their composure. Shortly after Professor McGonagall joined them and had to be introduced to Pringle; it was whilst Draco, Pringle and the Headmaster politely stood to welcome her to the table, that Hermione felt a tingle in the back of her neck as though someone was glaring at her.

She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck to rid herself of the strange tingling, then allowed her eyes to roam surreptitiously around the room trying to find the perpetrator. Pansy was her immediate suspect, and she searched for the frothy pink thing which Pansy was wearing; she was the only girl who had chosen such a vivid colour tonight, so she was fairly easy to spot. Instead of staring daggers at Hermione, however, she seemed to be chewing hard on her fingernails, and her expression could only be classed as nauseous. Her complexion was a nasty unbecoming shade of green which clashed horribly with the bubble-gum pink of her robes. Hermione looked in sudden admiration at Draco, who was politely if boredly listening to something McGonagall was saying, and totally oblivious of Pansy Parkinson. Obviously Draco knew his housemate very well, for his choice of punishment seemed to have worked like a charm.

But if Pansy was not staring daggers at her then who else had caused that prickling feeling to run along her spine? She searched the rest of the room, but no one seemed to be paying her any particular attention. Many of the students were indeed casting fascinated glances at their table, but they were focused on the larger-than-life presence of one Dilman Pringle, and not the familiar mousy figure of their Head Girl. After spending a fruitless five minutes wondering if she was just imagining things, Hermione gave up the search and returned her attention to the adults to discover that they were discussing politics and Fudge's stance on Azkaban.

Draco was sitting very quietly and Hermione got the impression that he was trying to blend into the woodwork, so that they would continue the discussion without remembering that their audience comprised the son of an incarcerated Death Eater, and a witch of Muggle parentage. Hermione wondered what Draco imagined he could learn from Albus Dumbledore and a flamboyant wizard in the catering business; it wasn't as if he had any knowledge of Dumbledore's position in the Order, nor her own association with it, come to that.

Still, and she supposed that Snape would confirm this, you had to take your information from any source you could get it. The trick was to sift through it and find the gold amongst the dross. Draco probably knew as much about Azkaban as the next person; more actually, since she was the next person. He had after all, visited his father there; this was most likely an uncomfortable conversation for him given the circumstances and she wondered why Dumbledore would have continued it - he was usually particularly sensitive to his students problems.

She was interrupted from her reverie by the Headmaster exclaiming suddenly, 'My goodness, is that the time?' He stood decisively and thanked Pringle again. 'A wonderful, wonderful evening, but we must start sending the carriages back to the school. I can't believe it's nearly midnight!'

As if on his cue, the band faded the last notes of their current song into silence, and the lead singer called out, 'Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience. Goodnight to you, and please remember to come back to the Felton Arms for your private parties and special occasions!'

There was a chorus of complaints from the guests, and as she readied herself for the final duties of the evening, Hermione cast her eyes across the gathered people and found to her pleasant surprise that most of her peers were in the company of students from other houses. Ron was talking with some Ravenclaw girls and Harry was sandwiched between Susan and Hannah; Hermione thought that if maybe she had looked a moment earlier she might have been witness to some dancing he really wouldn't want her to share with Ginny.

Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's erstwhile companions were sitting with Neville who looked terrified but unable to escape as Parvati, currently seated on his lap, was holding a very intense conversation with the two Slytherin boys.

On the whole, Hermione realised, it had been a tremendously successful evening, barring her own indiscretion in Pringle's office. She devoutly hoped that the momentum which had started tonight could be maintained. Next Saturday, most of the students would be leaving for the Christmas Holidays; she could only pray that any progress achieved tonight was not decimated by two weeks exposure to family, tradition and upbringing.

Finishing up their obligations for the evening, was to ensure the safe boarding of students returning to Hogwarts into their carriages. Despite Draco's desire to take the first carriage back, they had both known this was not a possibility; that they would in fact be taking the last coach instead, only able to leave when they were sure everyone else had gotten away safely.

As they persuaded the last stragglers into their coach, Tonks came up behind them and grinned at them both. 'We hardly spoke two words tonight, cuz!' She said cheerfully, and Hermione marveled that two such entirely different people could have sprung from the same family tree. 'How you bearing up there, Hermione?' She added with a wink that made Hermione step back nervously. 'You did a good job tonight. It was fun.'

Draco pursed his lips. 'Yes, what a pity you had to spend the evening with Professor Snape though, and not your loving family,' he said evilly.

'Well, all isn't lost,' Tonks replied breezily. 'I might just come up to the castle and see you tomorrow instead, have lunch with my dear cousin. 'Night!' She flicked her magenta hair and stomped off towards the main staircase of the Hotel, barely missing a solid marble coffee table in the middle of the lobby seating area.

Fulfilling their last duty, Hermione and Draco inspected the Ballroom for lost property, and accompanied by a box filled with shawls, two evening bags a pair of shoes and some odd coins and earrings, they climbed wearily into the last carriage.

Hermione was asleep before they were halfway back, head resting on Draco's shoulder as he watched the night sky out of the uncovered window and stroked her hair with his free hand.


	41. Chapter 41

Albus Dumbledore examined the people assembled in his office over the rim of his glasses. He had taken this opportunity to call an informal meeting of available Order members. Since a fair assortment of ministry officials were in town attending the Hogwarts 7th Year Social, he had welcomed the opportunity to invite them to the school for a brunch meeting, without arousing any undue suspicion in the more paranoid departments of the Ministry.

Although Fudge was somewhat inactively working towards the elimination of Voldemort and his followers, a goal which had brought him ostensibly back into unity with Dumbledore - in reality the Minister was still deeply convinced that the Headmaster secretly wanted his job, if not for himself, then for someone whom Fudge perceived that Dumbledore would manipulate as a mouthpiece for his own policies and ends.

Fudge's prime suspect was Arthur Weasley, and he was therefore fanatically careful to exclude Arthur from any strategy meetings the Ministry held. Fudge also invited himself to each and every gathering, political or otherwise, which came to his attention, and his paranoia was rendering his effectiveness to lead as little more than a joke in government circles. Although his credibility had taken a tremendous beating since he had to admit to Voldemort's return eighteen months previously, he still clung on to office by the tips of his fingers.

His latest decision to allow Lucius Malfoy a parole hearing in the New Year had finally tipped Dumbledore into considering the very action that Fudge had been fearing for the majority of his term in office. Without the excuse of the Social Evening, it would have been unlikely that Fudge would have agreed to the proximity of so many key Ministry personnel to Hogwarts and it's dissenting Headmaster.

The invitations were extended with great deliberation; Dumbledore took as much care making his decision about who to invite to camouflage his intended meeting as Draco and Hermione had put into dispersing the students amongst the adult guests.

Thus, under the guise of Do Not Disturb charms displayed on the doors of their rooms, six of the eight Ministry guests left the Felton Arms shortly after breakfast on Sunday morning and flooed to a small ante-chamber in a heavily warded, disused wing of the castle, from where they crossed the room and used a second fireplace on the opposite wall to floo directly into Dumbledore's office.

They were now gathered awaiting the arrival of one of their most valued members, Severus Snape.

'How come Harry isn't here?' Tonks asked suddenly. 'I thought we were including him in these things now?' At her words a couple of the others nodded thoughtfully. Albus acknowledged her question with a nod and a smile.

'Yes, indeed we are. But as a matter of fact I have not called this meeting in relation to Lord Voldemort's activities - well, actually, only in the most indirect manner. Let's just wait until Severus arrives, as he has particular knowledge about the matter, and he will be able to explain our concerns to you all in detail. He should be along shortly.'

Minerva frowned as if the subject of this meeting was especially distasteful to her, but any further discussion was forestalled by the arrival of the missing Slytherin.

'Good morning, Severus!' Dumbledore said cheerfully. 'Did you have a pleasant time last night?' The Headmaster had greeted all of his guests with the same question, but there was no doubt his twinkle as he addressed his surly Potions Master was brighter and more mischievous than it had been for his other interreges.

'Thank you, Albus, it was satisfactory,' Severus replied stiffly as he took the last remaining seat next to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'Well, you actually looked quite in the spirit of the occasion - spinning our dear Head Girl around the dance floor,' Albus commented blithely, and Severus snorted. Those seated closest to him could clearly hear him mutter something about foolish little girls and manipulative old wizards.

Albus sighed. 'Enough of this extravagant flattery,' he said. 'Unfortunately we are here today with a serious matter under discussion, so we will have to put aside pleasant reminiscences about last night and get down to business. Severus - if you wouldn't mind -'

Severus nodded and rose from the seat he had recently taken. 'Over the course of the past eighteen months, since Lucius Malfoy was taken to Azkaban prison, I have been periodically checking up on an old school friend of mine; I was visiting with her at the beginning of this month and I discovered during the course of our meeting that Fudge is negotiating to have Malfoy receive a parole hearing in the New Year -'

He got no further in his narrative for everyone in the room with Ministry connections began exclaiming at once. The three Hogwarts professors, who had already discussed this intelligence in detail, waited for the commotion to die down somewhat.

In was Kingsley who finally moved the discussion onwards. 'Severus, do you trust the accuracy of your informant in this matter?' he asked practically. 'I can't believe that none of us here have heard a breath of it at the Ministry.'

'Yes,' Severus replied calmly. 'The source is impeccable in this instance.'

Albus nodded his head agreeably, indicating that he also knew and trusted the veracity of Severus' informant. Tonks was glancing thoughtfully between the two older men; although her clumsiness often gave the impression that she was a liability rather than an asset to the Order, she was a fine Auror, with a sharp analytical mind.

'Why you sly old dog, Severus,' she gasped suddenly, a wide grin splitting her face. 'You've been sniffing around Narcissa Malfoy, haven't you? Old school friend indeed - is that what they're calling it these days?'

'Miss Tonks,' Severus addressed her in a chilling tone. 'Your speculations are offensive and inappropriate to the subject. Suffice it to say that my source has inside information which both the headmaster and I believe to be impeccable.'

The colour of Tonks' hair flickered briefly, but she showed no other outward reaction to this chastisement, until Snape turned to respond to a question from Arthur Weasley, when she pulled a face at his back and stuck her tongue out at him. Minerva, catching this covert childishness, was hard-put not to smile at her former student's disrespect.

'What on earth can Fudge hope to gain by releasing Lucius Malfoy?' Arthur speculated thoughtfully. 'That seems to be the most pertinent question. His popularity is already at an all-time low; I fail to imagine how he thinks releasing one of the most notorious of You-Know-Who's followers can possibly enhance his standing in the government.'

'That is indeed a puzzle, but Fudge and Malfoy are both adults,' Dumbledore replied taking charge of the conversation, and even Tonks, who had been still pulling faces at Severus, sat up to attention in her chair. 'They will do whatever they see fit, regardless of the impact on anyone else. I am more concerned right now about one of our students, and what we can do to guide him in making sense of this.'

'Harry?' Asked Kingsley curiously.

'No - no.' Albus replied firmly, 'Although obviously he will need informing, to ensure that he is on his guard against any schemes Lucius may concoct.'

'Draco,' Tonks said suddenly. 'You're concerned about how this will affect the progress my cousin has made this year!'

'Very astute, Miss Tonks,' Dumbledore said approvingly, while Arthur and a couple of others looked puzzled and questioned Progress? in baffled voices. Albus nodded. 'Indeed, as Miss Tonks has so intuitively noticed, the staff and I have been attempting to make some headway in diverting young Mr Malfoy from the course his father set his feet upon. It is no secret that Slytherin House is the main source for recruiting the next generation of Death Eater followers, although that is not to say that prominent followers of Voldemort -' he paused here briefly to accommodate the round of exaggerated wincing which followed his use of That Name, then continued smoothly, 'have never been found in the old alumni of the other three houses. However, I think it is a widely accepted fact that Mr Malfoy has the biggest sway in Slytherin today, and that whatever course he chooses will ultimately become the direction of choice for the rest of his housemates.'

Severus grunted but did not dispute the fact, and Arthur stared appraisingly at the Headmaster. 'Go on, Albus,' he encouraged. 'There's obviously more to this than we've heard.'

'Indeed, I am afraid I have been scheming again,' Dumbledore said, but there was a noticeable lack of a twinkle to accompany the words. Instead he looked merely sad and tired. 'I know that many people, including at least half of you sitting here in this room protested very vehemently at my suggestion to nominate Draco Malfoy for Head Boy, but I did not do this entirely without reason. In fact, in a totally unprecedented move, Draco was expected to undergo a very stringent interview process over a period of two days, with each of the Governors individually, and then make a presentation to a panel comprised of Professors and Governors stressing why he would be an asset in the position. It was his excellent performance under these conditions which led to his eventual election as Head Boy this year. He knew full well that it was a task which had never been expected of any potential Head Student before him; indeed we told Miss Granger before she left for the summer holidays that she would be returning as Head Girl - yet never once did he object to what we asked of him, or bemoan the unfairness of being subjected to what in effect amounted to a test of his character. Mr Malfoy genuinely wanted to serve his House and his school, and he was prepared to undergo any challenge we presented him with, for the opportunity to do so. So ultimately it was his determination to succeed and win the position - despite the fact that he knew from the outset who would be his counterpart, which convinced even the most vociferous of his detractors -' he allowed himself a glance at Minerva, and a wry smile as she bowed her head in acknowledgement, ' -that he would be worthy of the position, and may very well even be on the verge of abandoning decades of unquestioning Malfoy adherence to a dangerous cause. I think I speak for all of the faculty here when I say that this year's Head Students have dealt with each other far better than anyone could have ever expected.'

Minerva and Severus nodded reluctantly, although the Potions Master did not look Albus directly in the eye, allowing a small twinge of conscience to prick at him as he recalled his advice to Draco in regards to concealing his romance from the Head Girl.

'Of course, we had hoped that continuous exposure and proximity to our splendid Muggle-born Head Girl would cause Mr Malfoy to have reason to reevaluate the outdated and blatantly false preconceptions of students from non-magic families, which he has been fed all his life. There is really no better witch to teach him that all his father's prejudices were wrong than the exceptional Miss Granger.'

Nods and smiles accompanied this pronouncement; Hermione had been a universally popular choice for Head Girl, and many of those sitting in Dumbledore's office today had winced in heartfelt sympathy when they had heard with whom she would have to share the burden.

'Minerva and I have a very real reason to believe that Draco is on the verge of committing to some...er -thing totally and utterly the antithesis of every tradition Lucius has instilled into his son from the moment he first emerged into this world. I cannot stress how imperative it is for this process of reeducation to be allowed to continue uninterrupted for young Draco. If we can bring about unity of all the four Houses in Hogwarts, the next generation of young adults which emerges into the world will be unrestricted by the prejudices of their parents. Imagine a world in which racism and blood-hate is non-existent. I truly believe that Draco Malfoy is absolutely key to attaining this goal in our lifetimes. It is essential, essential that Lucius not undo the progress Draco has made if indeed he is released in the near future. Of course, now that we have heard 'official rumour' that the hearing is to take place, I shall of course demand a review by the Wizengamot and generally stir up as much bother as I can for our dear Minister. Now all we need to do is decide how to recruit Draco!'

'Great! Happy Christmas everyone.' Muttered Tonks sarcastically.

********

Whilst the guardians of hope and morality in the wizarding world were seated in the tower office of Albus Dumbledore, debating the fate of Draco Malfoy, the young man in question was engaged in a far more pleasing pastime; namely that of soaking in a deep hot bath and indulging in some very erotic memories of taking the Gryffindor Head Girl up against a wall in Pringle's office the night before. He was still elated that she had been so responsive to his decidedly risqué suggestion, and her enthusiastic reaction to his explicit words had blown his mind. He was rapidly becoming addicted to Hermione Granger, and she had chosen today to abandon him for Scar-face and the rodent. He was particularly wary of her hanging around the Weasel bearing in mind their previous aborted relationship, but the sneaky witch had chosen to inform him of her defection when he was only half awake, and insufficiently prepared to entice her into spending the day in bed with him instead.

He lay alone in the bath, Hermione having insisted that if she didn't appear in the Gryffindor tower today, then people, probably Harry and/or Ron and Ginny would come here looking for her. He was pondering on the fact that he just simply couldn't get enough of her. The only witch he had ever maintained ongoing sexual relations with before had been Isabelle, and that had been more about convenience than need. She had been older and geographically removed, thus making it far too easy for him to dismiss her from his mind the moment he left her bed.

He could not dismiss Hermione for longer than it took to make notes in Arithmancy, and even then he had come back to his rooms and found a couple of gaps in his work which could only be accounted for by a bout of unfortunate daydreaming. His grades were only saved by the fact that apart from Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, they had practically the same course load. He had never been able to study with another student before; Vince and Greg simply weren't up to it, Zabini was too much of an unknown quantity for Draco to feel comfortable showing his weaknesses or strengths to, and to venture outside of Slytherin for that purpose was something he could never have conceived of with his upbringing.

However, with Hermione he had already broken so many of the unwritten rules of Malfoy behaviour that he suspected several generations of his paternal grandparents were writhing in their graves at this very moment. Well, fuck them, he decided sinking lower into the water. He felt just about the best he had ever felt in his short life right now, and the law of averages said that meant that something awful was just around the corner to cock it up, so he might just as well wallow while he could.

*********

Hermione's morning was taking a very different course from the others'. She had woken before Draco and taken a quick shower to remove the lingering cosmetic potions applied by Lavender and Parvati the night before. As she dried her hair she decided it would probably be a good idea to spend the day back in Gryffindor; people would no doubt want to gossip about the event, and they felt a certain ownership of the Head Girl, being as she was one of theirs. They would expect her to be available to rehash every second in minute detail. The Slytherins no doubt expected the same of Draco; it had certainly been that way after the Halloween Ball.

It struck her forcibly as she left the bathroom and saw Draco sprawled across the bed just how surreal this whole thing actually was. She was the studious bookworm Hermione Granger, Gryffindor to the core, of no particular beauty, prim, scholarly and chaste. She should not be standing here in this position - how had it come to be that she of all people would be the one to know that Draco Malfoy slept like a starfish, hogging the whole bed, yet keeping her clamped close beside him under one arm so that she didn't fall out despite only having the very edge to cling to?

How was it that she could now be walking over to him and waking him with a kiss before dancing out of reach of his quick seeker's grip, and telling him that she was going down to breakfast which brought about a slew of half garbled complaints about it being Sunday, and lie-ins and quickies.

As she left the room laughing at him, it was the very first time that whatever they were doing felt like a real - dare she say relationship - that they were actually behaving as if they were a true couple. Boyfriend and girlfriend. It sounded so strange to phrase it that way, innocent somehow, when what they did together was anything but innocent! By that definition, she should have called Viktor or Ron a boyfriend, yet neither of them had seemed to come close to this - whatever it was, which she and Draco had achieved in two short weeks. She leant back against the study door marveling how upside down her life had become, but she couldn't manage to worry over it, so she shrugged and headed for the Great Hall.

It was nearly 10.30, and when she arrived there were mostly just the 7th years still eating breakfast, having been out so late the night before they, like herself had only just managed to drag themselves out of their dormitories.

She passed Anthony Goldstein in the doorway, and smiled brightly at him; to her consternation, he only nodded stiffly in reply - and that only after having subjected her to a thorough inspection from head to toe as if he was looking for something. She puzzled about this strange behaviour right up until she reached the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Ron's cheers led her musings away from Tony's odd demeanor.

'That was an excellent party,' Harry said immediately, 'we had a really good time - ouch!' For Ginny had delivered a playful slap to his shoulder. 'Well,' he amended, 'as good as possible without Ginny being there.'

'Did you really?' Hermione asked, pleased, and smiled happily as Dean and Padma who were sitting further along the table with Parvati agreed loudly. 'I'm glad, because it was very challenging - we really didn't have any guidelines to go by. It only started last year, and it was here in the Great Hall then. So this was all very experimental.'

'We?' Ron asked in a puzzled voice. 'Who's we?'

'Ron!' Ginny exclaimed exasperatedly, taking the onus off Hermione to answer. 'Who do you think - Ferret- face, of course. He is the Head Boy! I hope you made him do his share, Mione!' She added turning to catch the other girl's eye with a wink that the boys couldn't see.

'I did, Ginny. I made him do exactly what I told him.' Hermione replied brazenly, and Ginny goggled for a moment before she regained her equilibrium. Hermione felt quite reckless, speaking in such obvious double entendres in front of the boys. Luckily, Ginny was quick-witted and sly enough to return her volley with interest.

'I'm sure he hated every moment of that,' she replied with relish, and Harry and Ron, blissfully oblivious to any undertone in the girl's conversation smiled broadly. Ron even patted her hand and said,

'Good for you, Mione. You keep on making the Ferret suffer. Give him one for all of us.' Hermione felt herself flushing at this and quickly changed the subject to draw attention away from herself.

'I can't believe it's going to be the Christmas holidays next week,' she said as she helped herself to some cereal and bacon. 'It's our last year and already the first term is nearly over. It'll soon be time -'

'To start revising for NEWTS. We know, Mione,' Harry said with an exaggerated sigh.

She pouted at him. 'Actually, I wasn't going to say that. What I was going to say, is that it will soon be time to say goodbye to Hogwarts for ever! Do you remember when we all met in first year on the train and I was helping Neville find his toad? How young we all were then! Look how far we have all traveled since that day; I bet none of us could have ever imagined the things we have done, or that we'd have ended up where we are now.'

Harry and Ron looked forcibly struck by this speech, whereas Ginny grinned knowingly at her, seemingly unable to let another opportunity to tease her friend pass by. 'Yes, who would have thought you would do the things you've done, and end up where you have, Hermione!' She agreed.

'Oh, don't be silly, Gin,' Ron said irritably. 'We all knew she was going to be the Head Girl by the end of 3rd year.'

'If you say so, brother dear,' Ginny said cheekily, and Hermione scowled at her repressively, blushing slightly. Ginny decided to take pity on her. After a fashion. 'So, Mione, are you still planning on going home for Christmas, or has anything changed your mind?' She asked.

Ron and Harry immediately took this question at face value and began asking if she was indeed wavering in her decision not to visit the Burrow or 12 Grimmauld Place over the Christmas holidays. Hermione allowed them to pester her with entreaties to join them while she finished her bacon and buttered some toast.

'I told you at the beginning of the year that my parents wanted me home for Christmas this year.' She said firmly. 'It's my last year at school, and they just want a big family Christmas with scads of relatives, because they rightly expect that by next year, I will be either too busy at university or working with the Order to take two whole weeks to spend with them. And I agree; this is the last true year of our 'childhood'. When we leave school in June, we'll be adults and in charge of our own futures. I think it's quite reasonable of my parents to want me home this year, and I fully intend to go. Nothing has changed my mind on that,' she replied with a loaded glance at Ginny.

Ginny apparently decided to ease up on the teasing, and asked quite genuinely, 'Will you be able to get away on NewYear's eve, though? I think there will be some kind of party at Headquarters. Mum hinted about it in one of her letters, and by then you might have had all the relatives you can stand.'

Hermione smiled. 'Yes, I don't think that will be a problem. My folks usually go to a big party organized by the local Round Table on New Year anyway. My Dad is on the committee.' This meant absolutely nothing to the others at the table, even Harry, but as it implied her agreement, they didn't pursue it.

'Guys,' Dean called from his position. 'We should probably move - it's getting close to lunch time now, and most of the younger years weren't up as late as us last night. The - er - they probably want to clear up after breakfast before they start on lunch.'

Hermione managed a little snort as Dean stumbled over an effort not to mention the House Elves in her presence. All of Gryffindor had learnt the hard way that discretion was the better course around Hermione when mentioning the magical servants. Her stance on House Elves had relaxed slightly over the years, but she still wished they wanted more out of life than she had been finally forced to admit they actually did, and her friends were still understandably cautious to mention them around her.

'Are you coming back upstairs with us?' Harry asked. 'Surely you can take today off studying; you've been very immersed in stuff the past few weeks. We've hardly seen you.'

'Yes,' Hermione said firmly, congratulating herself on her perception in recognizing that she needed to spend time with her friends before she became too swallowed up by this whatever it was that she had developed with Draco. She had never imagined it could be so hard to leave him sprawled half asleep and pouting about being abandoned, as she had found it this morning. It just reinforced to her that she needed to get a grip on her wayward emotions before she ended up in a real mess over him. 'I am coming up - I thought I needed to unwind after all the organizing to make last night run smoothly. I am treating myself to a Mental Health Day.'

She linked her arms with Ron and Harry's as they left the Great Hall, and she could almost, almost convince herself that everything was still the way it had been back in September, before she trampled on Ron's heart and lost her own head over the enemy.


	42. Chapter 42

Luna was sitting quietly in the common room analyzing the latest edition of her father's magazine. She intended to become assistant editor after she left school, and Mr Lovegood usually picked an article from the new issue and told her to return an edited and rewritten version of it by Friday, to make sure she was fully on her toes with the Quibbler's journalistic style. This week's assignment was a piece about interbreeding between giants and humans. Luna was scribbling fiercely with a scarlet-inked quill onto a parchment held flat open on the table beside her chair by an empty butterbeer bottle and something which Muggles might have called a pet rock, except that Luna's was a pet and actually did move. Her father had brought it back from one of his journalistic expeditions for her. She had some very strong ideas about why the person who had penned the original article was completely wrong in his suppositions. She knew her father would absolutely love her offering -

Her creative process was interrupted suddenly by the banging of the common room entrance door, and Anthony Goldstein stormed into the room, looking ready to hex anyone who spoke to him. Luna was mildly surprised at his forceful entry for the 7th year prefect was not prone to fits of melancholy, and aside from that very few of the senior year students were up to banging around the common room in a temper after the apparently excellent party they had attended the night before.

Padma Patil and Terry Boot had murmured a sleepy hello to her as they headed off to breakfast about forty minutes ago; they had both been yawning and rubbing their eyes. Luna hadn't bothered asking if they had a good time, because it had been obvious that they had. She would have quite liked to go to down to the Great Hall and see if Ronald had emerged from the Gryffindor tower yet, but as she had already eaten breakfast at 8.00 this morning, she felt she shouldn't make it so obvious that she wanted to know who he had spent last evening with.

She knew that his relationship with Hermione Granger was over, and that it would not be rekindled. Hermione was clearly enamored of someone else. Ronald just needed to finally let go, and then he would be hers. She knew she would be so much better for him than the other Gryffindor; all she had to do was have patience, and not be too clingy or needy. It would do Ronald good to wonder why she wasn't waiting for him today, checking on him.

She was therefore quite startled and surprised when Anthony caught sight of her and headed straight for her to plop himself down in a chair opposite. She gave him her usual wide-eyed glance and waited for an explanation. When nothing seemed forthcoming after several long moments of silence, Luna sighed and returned to editing her article. She had added two more sentences on the size disparity of giant and human male reproductive organs, when Anthony suddenly said,

'You remember when you told me that Ginny Weasley said Hermione and her brother had broken up?' Luna looked up from her parchment and blinked curiously; she had almost forgotten he was sitting there, and whatever was on his mind, she would never have imagined it would be that. She nodded without speaking, and Anthony continued, 'Did she say that there was someone else involved?'

Luna set her quill down deliberately next to the parchment and folded her magazine up before answering. 'No, she did not. She only told me because she knew I would be interested to know that Ronald was free.'

Tony growled. Trying to hold a conversation with Luna could be like trying to decipher a riddle and he didn't have the patience for it today. 'But there is someone else, isn't there?' he asked, just wanting to know how long it had been going on. Whether he was truly the last to know or not. 'Why did you come over and tell me that they had separated anyway?'

Luna tilted her head to one side, 'Why, I thought you liked her yourself, Anthony,' she replied mildly. 'I thought you might like to know she was free. I thought you might keep her away from Ronald.' She smiled at him brightly. 'It seems to have worked, too, doesn't it? She's certainly enamored of someone now. I can tell by just looking at her; she shines all bright and sparkly, and she smiles all the time. She never looked like that when she was with Ronald; she just looked worried and nervous mostly. Have you noticed it, too?' she concluded curiously.

'Oh, I noticed it yesterday alright!' Tony snapped, making Luna jump in her seat. 'I noticed her smiling and whispering to someone, and it certainly wasn't me! I've been trying to behave like a gentleman, not pushing to start something while she was still in the rebound stage, and what does he do but slip in right under my nose and snatch her away, while I'm trying to do the right thing! And how long will that last, I ask you. It'll take forever to break through her defenses after he's finished playing with her affections.'

Luna felt mildly alarmed at Anthony's vehemence. 'Who?' She asked worriedly. 'Who is playing with Hermione's affections? My goodness, Anthony, you sound like someone straight out of one of Daddy's historical novels!'

'Fucking Malfoy, that's who!' Anthony declared hotly and this time he certainly didn't sound at all old-fashioned or like a character out of the pages of a Muggle romance (Luna and her father were addicted to these).

It took several moments for Anthony's words to penetrate Luna's outer shell of detachment, but when they did she burst into peals of ringing laughter. Tony glared at her furiously, for they were attracting all sorts of attention from the other students in the common room. 'Oh, Anthony, you are funny,' she gasped at last, regaining control of her wheezing voice. 'Do you truly believe Hermione and Malfoy -' she paused suddenly mid-thought and cocked her head on one side. Tony could see that she had moved past the inevitable knee-jerk repudiation response to his words and was actually considering the possibility that he might be right.

This was one of the reasons he had brought his suspicions to Luna in the first place. Many of the other students in his house, in the whole school in fact, thought Luna Lovegood was far too strange and different to pay much attention to her. But unlike most people, Tony had seen her analyse and sift through a problem until she got straight to the core of the matter, without being influenced by the peripherals which sidetracked so many others. In fact, he really thought she might have a good shot at Head Girl next year. He knew Dumbledore was just as aware of her unusual gifts as he was himself.

She leaned towards him, and he felt himself inching forwards also. 'You know, Anthony, at first that might seem like a very silly idea.' She waved her hand. 'As you just heard, even I was initially influenced by the weight of public opinion, but now I consider it, it would be terribly logical, wouldn't it?'

Tony cracked his lips in the caricature of a smile. Truly, only Loony Lovegood would think that a romance between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger was obvious. 'I assume you have a reason for coming to this conclusion though, and you didn't just suddenly wake up this morning and think, Oh, Merlin, Hermione and Malfoy are having a secret romance?' She continued.

This time Tony's smile was a little more genuine. 'No,' he muttered. 'But that's probably because I hardly managed to get any sleep last night after what I saw at the Social evening!'

'Goodness. Does everyone know then?' Luna asked mildly, her large eyes widening even further in consternation.

'Actually, no.' Tony replied in a frustrated tone. 'In fact I hardly caught it myself. It was only because I was on my way over to ask her to dance that I was even looking, you know? Another five seconds and I would have missed it, too. I'm sure no one else has a clue. They're hiding it very carefully,' he stuck his hands through his hair agitatedly and sighed. 'Or else I'm totally out of my mind and it never really happened.'

'What do you think?' Luna asked firmly. 'Real or imagination? In your heart what do you believe?'

Tony pondered the few seconds of time which had ruined his evening, and finally said sadly, 'Real; it happened - I know what I saw. She had been dancing with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall with Malfoy, when Dumbledore made them change partners. I had thought I would go and save her, play the hero- capitalise on the opportunity - when I saw him take her hand and lay it right on his heart. They whispered to each other and she laid her head on his shoulder. Just for a split second; if I had blinked I would have missed it, but I didn't. And then it was so obvious it was like they were screaming it at the top of their voices. I couldn't even believe everyone else in the room didn't see it, too.'

Luna sighed and patted the back of his hand encouragingly. 'Well, as you said, he is no doubt just playing with her affections, for some nefarious Slytherin scheme of his own. You should keep on trying to win her; show her the Ravenclaw Advantage. Don't let Malfoy think he has a clear field in front of him. I'm sure she will come to appreciate how much better suited you are if she spends more time with you!'

Tony brightened considerably at this. 'You think I should try and take her away from Malfoy?' He asked hopefully. 'Do you think I have a chance?'

'Of course you do, dear,' Luna said smiling. 'It is only Malfoy, after all.'

'You're right,' he grinned. 'It's only Malfoy, Slytherin scum! Thanks, Luna. I knew you'd help me see it more clearly.' He stood up and leaned over to place a brief kiss on her forehead and she smiled brightly at him until he disappeared down the corridor to the boys dormitories, when the smile faltered and screwed itself up into a frown.

Damn, she hated lying to people.

*******

Hermione was quite surprised on Monday when Tony approached her shortly after breakfast and asked if he could go over an Ancient Runes problem with her. After his strange behaviour on Sunday, she had thought maybe he had been unhappy about his seat assignment for the dinner, but now it appeared that he was back to normal. She agreed readily and arranged to meet him in the library at 4.00. She was quite determined to get back into some something approaching her pre-relationship routine.

Never mind that she was now sleeping in someone else's bed and getting shagged with greater frequency than probably any other witch in the school. Such were the perks of a private room; she had never before even imagined nor appreciated how difficult it must be for Harry and Ginny to find a time or place where they could be alone to do .....that, no doubt the reason that they had discovered the need for broomstick acrobatics.

Although Hermione was beginning to wonder if the frequency with which Draco seemed to want her was quite normal. If it was, and she certainly wasn't complaining for she matched his every desire, then it must be absolutely awful for their friends who were in physical relationships but without the convenience of their position. This thought led to an unsettling image of Neville and Parvati attempting to find privacy in one of the greenhouses to which Professor Sprout had given Neville almost free access, and that image was even more disturbing to her than the actual sight of Harry and Ginny had been.

She shook her head forcibly to dispel the pictures; she had Transfiguration first, and she certainly could not face Neville with those images in her mind. Someone bumped against her elbow, shaking her from her introspection and she looked up in irritation to see Draco sweep by her with a sly wink as he marched out of the Great Hall and disappeared up the stairs towards Professor McGonagall's classroom.

'Git,' muttered a voice behind Hermione and she swung around to see Ron and Harry just behind her. Even if they had seen Draco's wink, they would no doubt put it down to sarcasm, and she retrieved her habitual Grimace For Dealing with Slytherins and pasted it onto her face. 'I can't believe McGonagall is still making you work with him,' Ron continued irritably. 'We've finished the whole section on weapons 'fig. She should be rotating partners again.'

Hermione sighed. This argument had erupted last Thursday when the previous module had been completed, and Professor McGonagall had informed them that they would maintain their pairings for the next project. They would be doing an introduction to the subject today with the actual work beginning after the Christmas Break. Hermione had a strong suspicion that this topic was actually the one she had been waiting for since 3rd year when she first discovered what an Animagus was capable of. Truly, she was quite thankful to still be working with Draco on this one; there was no other wizard she thought capable of handling the subject as well - except for maybe Harry.

They walked to Professor McGonagall's classroom with Ron mumbling to himself all the way there. Although Hermione knew he was irritated on her behalf, she couldn't help thinking that a large part of his annoyance was at the fact that he had to spend another cycle with Theo Nott, who he had been paired with when she and Draco were assigned together. As a matter of principle, Ron objected to working with any Slytherin, despite the fact that he and Nott had seemed to complement each other well, and had both gotten a high mark on the last project with no assistance from her at all.

'Oh, Ron. It's nearly Christmas - can't we just get into the goodwill of the season?' Hermione asked with a sigh as they parted to take their assigned seats. 'I just want to get in the Christmas spirit and enjoy the break. I can't be bothered to get all bent out of shape because I have to work with Malfoy for a bit longer. I'm tired - I was very busy with last Saturday's event, and now I'm looking forward to the holidays. Just lighten up a bit will you?'

Ron sighed as he took his seat a couple of rows behind her. It really burnt him that Hermione had managed to maintain a peaceful working atmosphere with that ferret, and that everything which they were expected to arrange this year had turned out so well. He had so badly wanted Malfoy to fail in his position, so that he would have to endure the shame of being replaced midway through the term.

However, even Ron with his fixed ideas of what Malfoy was capable of, had to admit in the murkiest depths of his own head, that Malfoy was doing an adequate job as Head Boy. Ron's accolade would never be greater than that, but the Slytherin did seem to have put his racism and bigotry on hold for this one year, and might even be showing Hermione the respect she deserved as Head Girl, and his counterpart. That didn't mean Ron would ever put aside his own enmity and try to befriend the blond, and he hated his conscience telling him that it was unfair to openly denigrate Malfoy when the faults he stood accountable for lay in the past, not the present.

Ron scowled as the man himself looked up and eavesdropped on the end of Hermione's speech about Christmas, and then watched curiously as a frown settled on Malfoy's previously oddly cheerful face. The Head Boy looked thoughtfully at Ron, and then deliberately ignored Hermione, as she arranged her books on the desk and tested her quill. By the time Malfoy finally decided to acknowledge Hermione, Theo Nott had taken his place beside Ron and was talking happily about the grade they had just received.

Draco thought about Christmas in the light of Hermione's words which he had caught as she entered the classroom. Christmas had always been a strange holiday in his home; he never received less than a stack of expensive gifts, but rarely any attention other than that. His parents typically left the house soon after he had unwrapped his presents and apparated off to seasonal parties given by their 'social equals', usually held in warmer climates at 'summer' residences in the South of France or on one of the Greek Islands. Draco had been unwillingly dragged along with them each year until he put his foot down when he was thirteen and demanded to stay at home. His mother had been very unwilling to leave him behind, but his father - no doubt anxious to begin plotting with his equally sad political cronies had impatiently told Narcissa that if that was what the boy wanted, to leave him to get on with it.

He had spent a couple of quite happy Christmases alone with his gifts and his own company until Lucius had gotten himself caught and locked up, which had created a whole new kind of Christmas anti-cheer. Last year, Christmas morning had found him visiting his father in Azkaban prison, and listening to him complain about Potter and his friends. Draco and Narcissa had returned home to a disappointing cold buffet lunch, after which his mother - tearfully declaring that the sight of her poor Lucius in that awful place had quite undone her spirit - had apparated away to visit Natalie Henstridge, a particular friend of hers who was spending the winter at her villa just outside of Rome.

Draco, who had been utterly depressed and unnerved by the meager attempts at Christmas decorations which were strewn around the prison, was left alone with his own morbid thoughts. He regarded that afternoon as the pivotal moment in his decision not to follow in his father's footsteps. There was something unspeakably creepy about the sight of limp tinsel garlands rustling in the dead breeze created by the passing dementors which he knew would stay with him for ever. He was never going to end up in that place with his father.

He knew his mother intended this Christmas Day to follow the same schedule as last year; she had already sent her owl to him with hints that they might hear some good news during their visit this year, but Draco did not believe it for a second. Ever since the day Lucius had been locked up, his mother had been predicting imminent Ministry apologies and pardons. She really had no idea of the depths of the trouble that Lucius had gotten himself into, which Draco supposed was a good thing in a way. At least the Ministry would have no grounds to incarcerate her as well, leaving him in effect orphaned. But sometimes Narcissa's blind conviction in her husband's innocence made him want to scream at her until she truly got it.

Suddenly hearing Hermione talk about looking forward to Christmas made him evaluate that which was waiting for him over the festive season, and he found he certainly wasn't looking forward to his holiday in the way that she was. Which brought about the previously unasked question of exactly what her plans were for the Christmas break.

He arranged his textbook and parchment on the desk, whilst wondering how to broach the subject. In the past, there had been several occasions when the Gryffindor trio had stayed at the castle over Christmas; although he knew there was no avoiding the parental visit, he thought it might be possible to imply that the Head Boy needed to spend an extra week at school in pursuit of his duties, if that was what those three were doing. Purely to irritate PotHead and the Weasel, of course; certainly not because the sudden thought of spending two weeks apart from Hermione was making his stomach twist unpleasantly. He had never been affected by the prospect of separation from any witch before; he certainly couldn't be worrying that Hermione might forget about him if she was back amongst those Muggles for two weeks, could he?

He had never spent any time thinking about how the Muggle-born students spent their holidays before; what they did, and how they passed the time. But with Hermione leaving him to spend two weeks in a place he had little knowledge or understanding of, the social habits of the British Muggle rose up to occupy a mammoth part of his thoughts.

He knew that Hermione had maintained friendships in her Other Life; people she was still close to - girls who bought her birthday gifts, for instance. Her best friends here were both boys.....what if there were Muggle boys out there she had equally close relationships with? One of those best friends here - the Weasel - had been in love with her for years. What if there was some other equally besotted Muggle boy waiting in the wings. She would be going home now apparently 'unattached'. Her aborted relationship with the Weasel started and finished within the span of the last school term.

What would this hypothetical Muggle boy do when he found out the competition didn't exist anymore. Would he be making his move over the Christmas break? Trying to steal Draco's witch? He was just about to accuse Hermione of transgressions created totally in his own fertile imagination when Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and tapped on her desk with her wand, demanding silence. Thankfully, over the course of the lesson, which was as Hermione had hoped an introduction to Animagus transformation, his unwarranted paranoia subsided until reason prevailed again in his mind. If he wanted to know something, it was best to just ask, rather than imagine the worst.

This epiphany was largely assisted by Hermione's hand finding it's way into his under the cover of their robes and giving it an excited squeeze, as McGonagall listed the qualities necessary for successful Animagus transformation, whilst sternly stressing that not every witch or wizard had the capacity to achieve animal form, and warning them not to be disappointed if they fell short of the criteria to try.

Any physical contact was difficult in Professor McGonagall's class due to her placing of them so close to the front of the room, better to keep her beady eye on him, Draco supposed, and unlike Potions where they were at the very back of the room and quite free to indulge in affectionate touches away from searching eyes.

The fact that Hermione had freely instigated any kind of contact under the eagle eye of her head of house and favourite teacher, gave Draco a giddy feeling which lasted right until the end of class, when he whispered quickly to her before they had to separate and return to their public image,

'Granger, I need to talk to you about something. Can you come back to the study at the end of classes today?'

'After dinner,' she replied under her breath. 'I promised to go over some Runes stuff with Tony immediately after class.' There wasn't time for any more. PotHead and the Weasel had extricated themselves from their work partners and were hovering like anxious mother hens over Hermione's shoulder, obviously waiting for her to abandon the vile Slytherin and follow after them like an obedient little chick.

She managed to pull an apologetic face at him as her guard dogs herded her away, but Draco had been tossed back into turmoil; the hypothetical Muggle was gone, replaced by the very imminent threat of a fully solid and physically present Ravenclaw. When had that been arranged? At what point had she been alone long enough to schedule clandestine study sessions with Anthony Goldstein? Although there was in fact nothing to indicate that such an arrangement had not been made right under the noses of those two Gryffindor twits. Of course - they would have no problem with her agreeing to meet up with a dozen Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff guys. It was only Slytherins that they objected to - himself in particular.

Draco had not bothered with Ancient Runes this year; along with Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, (and excepting the compulsory Muggle Studies) it was one of the subjects which Hermione studied and Draco did not. Of course, this meant he had absolutely no viable excuse for gate crashing on their study session which would not at worst give away their secret, or at the very least look incredibly suspicious.

Draco brooded through the rest of the day, and even hoped that by some miracle Greg or Vince might suggest a trip to the library at the end of classes, but with the need to study for the Social Evening over, the only suggestion they had for him was a game of exploding snap in the Slytherin Common Room. He politely declined, but after forty minutes of brooding in his study unable to concentrate on the required chapters in his Animagus book, he gave up and sought out his two friends hoping that some mindless shouting and loud noises would stop him from prowling down to the library where he was sure he would find Hermione and that witch-stealing Ravenclaw, heads together over some indecipherable hieroglyphics.

Greg and Vince of course had an internal alarm which went off at the beginning of the dinner hour. They scooped up the cards and stood up as if programmed to do so. 'Come on, Draco. Dinner's just starting,' Vince said happily, and he unfurled himself from his chair to follow them. He had to be there anyway, for his scheduling session; at least he would be able to see when Hermione arrived for her meal.

His worst fears were realised about thirty minutes later when his girl walked into the Great Hall accompanied by Anthony Goldstein who was carrying her book bag. They paused right in the doorway, and had a laughing tussle over the return of Hermione's possessions, before separating to join their respective houses.

Draco bit his lip to keep the growl inside; he knew quite well that to Hermione it was as innocent as it seemed - it simply wasn't in her nature to play with the affections of more than one person at a time. Her damnable Gryffindor morality would never allow it; and her own belief that her merely average looks could never attract hordes of men would prevent her from recognizing the circumstances for what they actually were.

Draco was not so misinformed. Anthony Goldstein was out to get his girl, and he was definitely commencing a full-out campaign. Draco allowed himself a moment of analytical freedom from his instinctive knee-jerk reaction to go and hex the damned Ravenclaw into a heap, and admitted that it was quite understandable why he would want to steal her away. She had been absolutely stunning at the Social Evening; Draco had caught more guys than just Tony staring in admiration at their Head Girl, as if unable to believe that prim studious Miss Granger could clean up so well. And Draco had felt quite smug at the knowledge that he had been the first to lay claim to her (aside from that annoying Weasel, but he didn't really count as he had been sniffing round her for years). Draco paused to wonder why he felt pleased when most people admired Hermione, but threatened when Goldstein did. He was on the verge of putting a name to that feeling when another problem hit him in the face. Anthony watched Hermione all the way to the head of the Gryffindor table, even as he headed towards his own, and as she took her seat placing her book bag on the floor under her chair, Goldstein's eyes turned deliberately across the expanse of the Great Hall to the Slytherin table and made contact with Draco's own.

This in itself was sufficiently suspicious to make the hairs on the back of Draco's neck rise up; Goldstein had been sniffing around Hermione for most of this year, and sulking with Draco for gaining the opportunity to be alone with her. But up until this moment, Anthony's interest had been marked most noticeably by his sulky acceptance of it's futility. Not this evening though. He gave Draco what could only be described as a smug smile, before allowing his glance to drift back across the room and rest on Hermione again.

Draco followed his gaze and found his little Gryffindor smiling encouragingly at a younger student who was leaning across a couple of her peers to pose a question to the Head Girl. Draco swung his eyes back quickly to find Goldstein watching him once again; his face now pulled into a challenging smirk.

Well, Fuck-a-duck, Draco thought furiously to himself, as he glared warningly back at the other boy. He knows! Merlin knows how, but he's worked it out, and he's going to try and take her off me! There was absolutely no doubt in Draco's mind that Goldstein had just issued him with a direct challenge, and his guileless Gryffindor would probably never conceive of looking beyond whatever plausible excuse the Ravenclaw was giving her to wriggle his way into her life.

Draco was too busy planning how to out Goldstein to worry that their relationship had been discovered; his first reaction was leaning towards making a public statement anyway - just to be sure that it was fully understood that she was off limits. He waited at his table until he saw Hermione rise and gather her things to depart from the Gryffindor table, then he leapt abruptly from his own seat and with a brief word to the Slytherins sitting beside him, departed the Great Hall before Hermione had managed to extricate herself from those students who were plying her with last minute requests.

Undoubtedly he would have to inform her of Goldstein's intentions, and try to convince her that he was right. Maybe with a bit of forewarning, she would be able to discern his plotting and head it off before Draco had to get involved and cause a nasty public mess.


	43. Chapter 43

Hermione was hurrying out of the Great Hall to return to the study, when she heard racing footsteps behind her rushing to catch up. She ground her teeth in frustration; she had been eager to see Draco - for some reason, an hour spent studying with Tony Goldstein had only served to emphasize to her how she had gotten oddly used to sharing her study time with the Head Boy. She wanted to talk to him about their newest T-fig project, and find out what he thought their chances were of being suitable candidates.

More particularly, she wanted to be in bed and wrapped around a naked Draco whilst she had this conversation. She really needed to make the most of this week because at the end of it she would be going back to her parents' house, and he would be off to wherever pureblooded prats like him went for Christmas.

She turned around pinning a welcoming smile onto her face to find Ginny sprinting down the corridor towards her. 'Where's the fire, Hermione?' She gasped as she finally caught up. 'I didn't think I was going to catch you.'

'Well you have,' she answered with forced brightness. 'What did you need me for? I was just going to start my homework - I've been helping someone with a study problem and haven't done anything yet.'

'Yes - Tony, I know,' Ginny replied, falling into step beside Hermione, and she accepted that she wouldn't be able to avoid the younger girl right now. 'Actually, it's Tony I wanted to talk to you about,' she confessed.

'Oh?' Hermione stopped walking and looked curiously at Ginny, who grimaced uncomfortably. 'Is there something the matter with him? He was kind of snappy with me yesterday, but he seemed to be back to his usual self while we were working earlier.'

'Well, yes - about that,' Ginny glanced up and down the corridor quickly and finding it almost empty hurriedly pushed Hermione behind a statue of William the Witless. 'I think I may have instigated something with Tony that was probably a bit unwise -'

Hermione goggled at her in astonishment. 'You mean - you and Anthony Goldstein -? But - but what about Harry? You know, the wizard you've been in love with ever since you first laid eyes on him -?'

'Hermione!' Ginny walloped her friend's arm in disgust. 'Not that sort of thing! What do you take me for? No - when you and Ron broke up, I - ah - I told Luna because I knew she has always fancied Ron, so I thought I should let her know he was - um - available?' She grimaced in apology, but continued stoically, 'and I know she would have gone straight off and told Tony because - well, actually because he's always fancied you -'

'What?' Hermione interjected faintly at this point, putting a hand to her chest and staring in astonishment at her friend. 'You are kidding me, right?'

'No, I am being absolutely truthful!' Ginny said uncomfortably. 'The trouble is, I think they came to some kind of silent agreement to keep you and Ron separated. Don't get me wrong, I think Luna and my brother would be really good together -' Hermione nodded at this point to let Ginny know that she agreed and was happy about it. 'But - and here's the kicker - that was before you got yourself involved with - someone else.' Ginny looked furtively around as if fearing they would be overheard, but Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief.

'No, you can't be right, Gin,' she muttered. 'I'd know if he was after something like that. We're just friends. He's always been pleasant to me ever since that time I said the Sorting Hat almost placed me in Ravenclaw. I'm sure that's all it is - it can't be anything else.'

'Well, it can and it is!' Ginny said forcefully. 'Take my word for it - Tony Goldstein has the hots for you. But that's not why I'm telling you this. Something else just happened, and now it looks like it could get messy.'

'Oh,' gasped Hermione, faintly alarmed. 'What could be worse than that? Now I'm going to be all twitchy and uncomfortable every time he talks to me; I wish you hadn't told me -'

'Oh, wait until you hear this then!' Ginny exclaimed. 'I was watching when you two came into the Great Hall just now, and I wasn't the only one. Malfoy was staring at the door like some angry hippogriff and he wasn't at all happy that you were hanging out with Tony -'

An embarrassed flush spread over Hermione's face at these words, and she tried unsuccessfully to suppress the idiotically pleased grin which threatened to break out at the thought that Draco might be jealous. Watching her friend's reaction, Ginny sighed and shook her head resignedly.

'You great big sap,' she sighed exasperatedly. 'He's got you good, hasn't he? Well, consider this then! The very moment you sat down at the table, Tony turns around and glares at Malfoy - he looks at you, Tony looks at you, and then Tony stares right back at Malfoy wearing a smirk just like his.'

Hermione, stomach still fluttering at the thought that Draco was jealous, obviously failed to see the significance of all these exchanged glances. She gave Ginny a confused look, and the red-head sighed again. 'Mione, I think Tony knows about you and Malfoy. Somehow he's worked it out, and it looked to me like he was issuing a direct challenge to take you for himself.'

It took Hermione a moment to process this wild hypothesis, and then she refused to believe it. 'Ginny, you've been reading too many romance novels. Things like that don't happen in real life; not to girls like me anyway. I still can't get my head around the fact that Draco actually wants me - let alone that he might think he would have to fight someone else to get me!'

'Well, okay then,' Ginny said huffily. 'You don't have to believe me. But before you dismiss this entirely, I would suggest you ask Malfoy what he thinks; because from where I was watching, it looked awfully like he took up the challenge.'

'He did?' Now Hermione actually sounded worried. She grabbed her bag from where she had laid it on the ground at William the Witless' feet, and slipping out from behind the statue she moved hurriedly towards the Head Students suite, Ginny following close behind. 'Has Luna talked to you about this today?' she asked. 'Or is this just based entirely on what you saw at dinner?'

'No, I haven't seen Luna today,' Ginny replied. 'I thinks she was off somewhere with Ron. Harry and I were alone at lunch and dinner. But, Mione, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. I don't think you should dismiss this as nonsense.'

'I'm not, I promise Ginny. But Draco did know I was studying with Tony. I told him this morning, and he didn't say anything to me then about it. I will ask him what happened tonight though. But I doubt he'll tell me - probably thinks it's some macho guy thing he has to deal with by himself,' she added glumly.

********

Draco was pacing the study, wondering why Hermione was taking so long to get here. She had been on her feet ready to leave when he had dashed out of the Great Hall, and he had been back here for fifteen minutes already; surely she should have arrived by now? Maybe some first years had stopped her before she could get out of the room?

Bloody Tony bloody Goldstein! Upsetting things like this when for the first time since he came to this damned school his life was actually going right for once. He knew Hermione wasn't the sort of person he could order not to do something; and to be honest he wouldn't be anywhere near as attracted to her if she was. That being said, at the moment all he wanted to do was forbid her to go within ten yards of that bloody Ravenclaw ever again.

Reason told him that he would have to convince her why it was a bad idea to allow Tony to get closer to her, and let the decision of how to handle it be hers, but he was so unused to sharing his thoughts and motivations, that he found it incredibly difficult to suppress that part of him which just wanted to demand that she never speak to Goldstein again. And what was taking her so long?

All of a sudden the fine little hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he heard footsteps in the corridor outside the study; Hermione, it had to be - his body never reacted that way to anyone else. At last! A quiet word and the door swung open; Hermione's unique scent of honeysuckle struck his senses and he closed his eyes to enjoy the way it soothed his edgy nerves, even as he reached out for her.

Hermione was quite startled to be grabbed from behind the door as she stepped over the threshold and into the study. She really shouldn't have been however, as Draco had seemed to make it a habit to pounce on her from behind all manner of objects and drag her away for a quick snog.

She mumbled something unintelligible as her book bag landed on the floor again, and Draco pushed her flush against the wall behind her, kicking the door with his foot to shut it. Neither of them heard the muffled complaint of the person who had been following Hermione and was halfway through the opened door as it smacked her in the face.

Draco held her still with his hands fisted in her hair, tugging it loose from the severe ponytail she used to keep it under control during the day. His mouth devoured hers even as his fingers worked their way though the wild mass of her curls until he had her hair tumbling in a chestnut waterfall around her shoulders. He trapped her against the wall with his hips, thrusting suggestively against her stomach so that she could feel the rapidly rising heat of his erection pressed hard against her.

She whimpered as her tongue darted into his mouth to trace along the edge of his teeth and then curl around his own. Tony was forgotten, swept away to the back of her mind by the instantaneous burn of her arousal. How could anyone else ever hope to compare to this? Her right hand clenched in the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping his head in place whilst they ravaged each other's mouths. Her left skimmed over his back until it found his arse and began fondling and squeezing it. Hermione was still fascinated by his bum despite her new familiarity with it.

He groaned and thrust harder against her; he loved the way she played with his arse, but there were other parts of him in greater need of her attentions right now. Obligingly his little Gryffindor followed his unspoken directions, and her hand crept around between them to slip inside the waistband of his uniform trousers and fondle the sensitive tip of his swollen cock.

He tore his mouth away from hers eliciting a whimper of protest before he rested his head against he curve of her neck and whispered into her skin. 'Fuck, yes, Granger! Touch me right there...' Hermione had a sudden flash of their union against Dilman Pringle's wall on Saturday night, and the memories it brought back made her shudder with anticipation for a repeat of the experience. Eagerly her fingers began working the fastenings of Draco's trousers, and she licked the curve of his ear which was all she could reach with his face buried in her neck, nibbling her shoulder.

Draco shuddered at the dampness of her hot tongue tracing the outline of his ear. One hand skimmed up under her shirt to play with her nipple as she managed to release the top button of his trousers. 'Merlin, Granger - what took you so long?' he gasped. 'I was losing my mind waiting for you -'

'That would be me,' piped up a bright voice from somewhere over his left shoulder. Draco was slow to regain his bearings, but Hermione - who suddenly remembered quite clearly that she had walked back to the study accompanied by Ginny Weasley - managed to gather herself much quicker and leapt away from the Head Boy as if she had been burnt. Draco growled at the loss of contact, but his brain cells were slowly re-ordering themselves and he finally grasped that there was something intrinsically wrong about the presence of another person in the study at a time like this.

He turned his head to find himself staring into the bright brown eyes of the youngest Weasley, who was grinning from ear to ear and looking like she had just struck gold. This was not good. First Goldstein and now - due entirely to his own damnable impatience, the Weasley girl. Way to keep a secret, Malfoy, he sneered. Unfortunate though it was, there seemed only one way to avert disaster; Hermione was simply looking too mortified to react, so Draco groaned and waved his hand, quickly murmuring a spell under his breath.

Instantly the smile fell off the other girl's face, to be replaced by a vague thoughtful expression. 'Ginny -' Hermione began, belatedly trying to ease the situation. When no answer was forthcoming, she swung on Draco with a horrified look on her face. 'Draco -what did you do?' She accused. 'Oh my God, you obliviated her, didn't you? Draco - she's my friend! You can't go around messing with people's memories because it's a bit inconvenient!'

'It was a gut reaction -' Draco began, trying to justify himself, but Hermione had already moved on, 'Where's your wand? Draco - did you just obliviate Ginny without using your wand? Oh God, do you have any idea how dangerous that is - why would you even try anything like that wandless? Since when can you even do that without a wand?'

Draco tried running his hands along her arms soothingly, but she jumped away from him. 'It's okay, Granger. She'll be just fine; I only did a short term adjustment - nothing more than the past five minutes. She's just assimilating at the moment, she'll be perfectly fine in a minute or two. Speaking of which - Reparo -' He cast the repairing spell so that Hermione's appearance was restored to the way it had been when she entered the study. Hermione glared at him, and walked over to check Ginny's well being for herself. Luckily, she could find nothing apparently amiss, other than the fact that the younger girl was standing there quietly thinking.

'You great idiot, Malfoy,' she muttered exasperatedly. 'She knows about us anyway. She has since the first day! What did you have to go and do this for?'

Draco snorted. 'Well how the fuck was I supposed to know you'd told the She-Weasel? I thought we were trying to be discreet and avoid House rivalries. How on Merlin's left testicle was I supposed to know that you would tell Weasley's sister of all people what had happened?'

'Well, it's not like I went racing off and announced it to her at the top of my voice you know,' Hermione snapped back. 'Ginny is very perceptive; she guessed that something had happened, and oddly enough, the first suspect she came up with was you! It was hardly my fault that I was so shocked at her lucky guess that I couldn't plausibly deny it!' She looked at her daydreaming friend. 'Just how long will she be drifting like this? Shouldn't she have snapped out of it by now?'

'She'll be like that until I release her,' Draco sighed. 'Look, Granger - maybe she does know, but knowing and seeing are two entirely different things, as I'm sure you remember! Wouldn't you rather not have seen her and Scar Head shagging out on the Quidditch pitch that night? I know that I would like to scour that image from my eyes for ever. I can't even look at Potter now without remembering that I saw his dick hanging out. It still gives me nightmares. Did you really want the She-Weasel to see me with my assets on display? She pretty nearly got a damn good eyeful; I wasn't far off taking you against that wall, you know and you weren't trying very hard to stop me.'

Hermione flushed, aware of the truth in his words. She had never wished to see Harry and Ginny in that position, and it was still very difficult for her to look at Harry without remembering seeing him naked. But, 'That was the first time you ever kissed me,' she said softly, staring into Draco's irritated face. 'And I want to remember that. I was so shocked, I just didn't know what to do with myself.'

Draco groaned, all his indignation wiped away by her words. He could feel himself swelling again as he also recalled the awkwardness and shock of their first kiss. He stepped up beside her and the vacant red head, bringing a hand up to stroke her cheek. 'I was pretty stunned myself,' he admitted quietly. 'I had been thinking about you for weeks by then, and after that weird experience at the Halloween Ball, I knew I couldn't keep denying it for much longer. It wasn't what I expected for a first kiss, though,' he grinned showing a flash of the old arrogant Malfoy. 'Not at all as skilled and persuasive as I would have hoped.'

Hermione bit on her bottom lip, making his eyes darken with lust. 'Well, I guess it didn't put me off though,' she whispered, and Draco realised they were in danger of forgetting the Weasley girl's presence again. He caught hold of Hermione's hand and brought it inside the still open front of his trousers. They both gasped.

'Get rid of the She-Weasel,' he groaned. 'I'll be in the bedroom waiting. Naked and playing with myself. Do it quickly!'

He hobbled over to the Head Boy's door, his movement hampered by the painfully stiff length of his swollen penis. Hermione rubbed her thighs together, trying to ease some of the ache in her pussy, but there would be no relief for her that did not come from the entry of Draco's cock. He was right; she had to get rid of Ginny quickly.

He whispered the words which released her trance from the threshold of his bedroom, and Ginny smiled brightly at her friend finishing the sentence she had been speaking as they entered the room and Hermione was accosted by it's inhabitant, entirely as if the past fifteen minutes had never happened.

'You know, I really should find Draco and ask him what that was all about in the Great Hall with Tony,' Hermione said quickly as Ginny paused for breath. 'It doesn't look like he's here; I'm going to dump these books in my room and see if he's down in the library. We need to talk about whatever he thinks he's planning. Thanks for telling me about it, Gin. I'll see you at breakfast?'

Ginny gave her a thoughtful look, but allowed herself to be hustled out of the Head Student study, and tried not to be too put out when the door swung hastily shut on her.

Hermione really did intend to bring the subject of Tony Goldstein up with Draco at some point, but when she entered his bedroom moments after she sent Ginny away, the sight which met her eyes drove all thoughts of other wizards right out of her head. Draco had stripped himself naked and was laying back on his bed in the soft glow of a few floating candles. He had his eyes closed and was slowly pumping his hand along the length of his rock hard erection. His teeth were biting into his bottom lip, and his left hand was between his legs, fondling his balls. Hermione pressed her own legs together, wanting to enjoy the sight of him touching himself for a moment longer.

'Stop staring and hurry up and get over here, Granger,' he growled, not opening his eyes but letting his hands fall away from his sex so that she could see how very hard and ready for her he was, his cock standing up at right angles from his body, dark red and swollen, and his balls already tight and full against his groin. Hermione whimpered and moved across the room scattering articles of clothing as she approached the bed. She was naked but for her underwear by the time she scrambled up beside him. She knew that he liked to take this off her himself, and she had found she chose to wear the silky little things that Julia had bought her far more often than she used to before.

Draco moaned as she climbed up the length of his body, settling her damp sticky knickers over the length of his rigid penis, and bending over to take a nipple into her hot wet mouth. His hips bucked up from the bed and he grabbed hold of her shoulders to get her attention. 'Don't,' he hissed. 'Can't take foreplay - I'm too close already. I need to be inside you now. We'll do slow later.' With which he rolled them over until she was crushed between him and the bed, and with uncharacteristic clumsiness, he just pushed her knickers to one side and thrust into her. 'Oh, God!' he moaned as he began moving in hard, fast jerks which hit all sorts of sensitive places inside her that he had never reached before. He was muttering something in her ear which she couldn't quite understand, but sounded like the same word repeated over and over again. Hermione really didn't care what he was saying; she was going to come any moment, and it was going to be the Big One - she could feel it gathering at the base of her spine with a force that left her helpless, and then he stopped. She was so close to climax that it actually hurt to breathe. 'Say it,' he growled harshly in her ear. 'Say it!"

Hermione whimpered, she would have said anything, anything at that moment in time if he would just keep moving, let her come. But she didn't know what he wanted, 'Yes,' she sobbed. 'Yes. What?

'Say it - say the words,' he hissed, his eyes boring into hers as he held himself still fully sheathed in her burning depths. 'Tell me - tell me that you're mine.'

That was what he wanted? She could do that, so easily because it was without a shadow of a doubt the absolute truth. Time suddenly seemed to slow as she reached up with both hands and cupped his face, keeping his eyes fixed on her own. 'I am, Draco,' she whispered, letting him read the truth in her face. 'Only yours - how could you ever doubt it?'

He accepted her words with something suspiciously like a sob, and his eyes fell closed as he began to move within her again faster, harder and deeper until they couldn't resist it a moment longer and simultaneously shattered into sparks of light as they collapsed in a satiated tangle of sweaty arms and legs.

Hermione stroked her hand through his damp hair, and whispered carefully, 'I was just helping Tony with his homework. That's all it has ever been. I don't care what his motivations are - you do believe that don't you?'

Draco nuzzled against her breasts. 'I was going to tell you to watch out for him,' he mumbled into a nipple. 'He wants to take you away from me. I should have known that Hogwart's brightest girl would spot it for herself.'

Hermione flushed at his compliment but her innate honesty forced her to admit, 'Well, actually that was what Ginny was talking to me about when we came up here. I'm afraid this witch had absolutely no idea. I'm still not sure she was right, either.'

Draco lifted his head at this, 'She was right, Hermione,' he said flatly. 'Take it from me; he wants you - he wanted to be Head Boy to be near you, and now he's found out about us, and he thinks he's going to nip in and steal you. I'm sure he's intending to use his House against me; we both need to be aware that he could expose us and use any trick in the book to drive a wedge in between us. He probably won't be above using Pot Head and the Weasel to influence you, so you'd better be prepared for them to find out before you're ready to tell them yourself. Don't underestimate what a determined man will do when he thinks he's in the right.'

'I've never thought of him like that,' Hermione said in a small voice.

'You'd never thought of me like that before this year,' Draco replied harshly, 'and look at us now.'

'That's not the same,' she argued. 'I may have never thought of you in a relationship sense, but never in six years have I ever been able to simply dismiss you. You have always been there. You were in my face, insulting me, sneering at me, demanding my attention, making sure that I noticed you. Never in all the time we have known each other, have I been able to ignore you, or forget that you existed. Ours has been a truly strange journey, but I think we've always been more aware of each other than we probably should have been given our history. And that is not something there has ever been between Tony and I.'

Draco thought about her words for a moment, and then grinned at her. 'I can't say I've ever thought about it in quite that way, but you're right. I think I've always considered you to be my particular rival; my own special challenge. I've spent more time thinking about you than any other girl I've ever known - mostly in a negative way, I admit. But it's true that kind of thing can't help but affect you somehow.'

He pulled her closer to him and brought the duvet up over their entangled bodies. Now that their passion had been temporarily satisfied, the cool December air was chilling them both. Hermione snuggled her head against his shoulder and wrapped her leg in between his.

'What are you doing over the Christmas holidays,' Draco asked, eventually remembering why he had wanted to see Hermione this evening in the first place.

'I'm going home to my folks,' she mumbled sleepily. 'They asked me especially as it's my last year at school. They think I will be too tied up with work or university next year. Mum's planning a big Christmas dinner with all the relatives, and Church on Christmas morning. You know - the usual.'

Draco scowled. In fact, he did not know what the usual was for Muggles, but it certainly sounded better than the plans which awaited him. Hermione spoke so casually about her return to the Muggle world, and it frustrated him that there was such a huge part of her life that he had absolutely no understanding of, nor right to invade. He was also somewhat hurt that she didn't seem to be particularly bothered at the prospect of parting from him for two weeks.

'What about you?' she asked, and in his irrational state, it seemed to Draco very much like an afterthought.

'Oh, the same,' he said stiffly, although he could tell she was already drifting off. 'Parties, presents - visits with the relatives.' He wanted to say more, to tell her about his father and how much he despised Azkaban, but so far their 'romance' or whatever it was had carefully avoided the specifics of why it was dangerous and generally forbidden for two people like them to be together. He wasn't sure that now - just before their first separation - was the best time to remind her exactly who his family was; no matter how much he might want to hear her words of sympathy and carry the memory of her embrace with him to that awful place, he somehow couldn't get the words out of his mouth.

He was quite surprised and undone therefore when she twisted her head up and looked sleepily at him. 'I'll miss you, though,' she whispered through a yawn, and he felt his stomach twist happily. Damn, but his bossy Gryffindor had him tied around her adorable little finger!


End file.
